You & Me, We Might Be Enough
by landslide-state-of-mind
Summary: Quintana, eventually. Senior year onward, with mention of Brittana. Quinn's accident didn't happen. Faberry friendship. Santana gets amazing news, but not the reaction she hoped for from some people.
1. Chapter 1

Santana dropped her bag on the floor and shoved the envelope into her desk drawer. She swore, and wiped tears from her cheeks. She wished her parents were home instead of in Florida. She needed someone, anyone really, and the one person she thought she had was currently not speaking to her. She swore again and pulled the envelope back out.

It was a big deal. A very big deal. A deal so big she'd called her folks in Florida, at the hotel, and they'd screamed ecstatically into the phone. It was the kind of deal that made her parents cry and call the family, made them promise to buy her a car if she wanted. She'd spent an hour talking to various aunts and uncles and cousins on the phone, and then she'd driven straight to Brittany's house. She'd handed it to her, grinning broadly, expecting some kind of happy reaction.

"You got into college in Boston?" Britt said. She wrinkled her nose. "I thought Berkeley was in California."

"Not that Berkeley, Britt. Berklee. The Berklee College of Music."

"In Boston?"

"In Boston. It's a huge deal, Britt. It's an international school; they only take about 30% of the people who apply. And they're taking me." She stopped. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just… Boston is kinda far away, isn't it?"

"You don't even know what colleges you got into yet, Britt."

"I know, it's just…" she trailed off. "I'm not going to college, San. At least, not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I found out today, ironically. I have to do senior year again, I don't have enough credits to graduate with you guys, because I failed History, Civics and Math Gen."

"What? No way, that's gotta be wrong." Santana shook her head emphatically.

"No, it's not. My parents flipped it. I can't even graduate after summer school. I have to do the whole year again. So yeah, I'm happy for you or whatever, but it kinda sucks that on the day I find out I have to stay in Lima, my girlfriend tells me she's thinking about going to school thirteen hours away."

"Thinking about?" Santana shook her head. "Britt, I'm going to Berklee. This is like, something I didn't even think was possible. I got into a college that people around the world would kill to get into."

"Can't you like, postpone it or something?"

"Are you serious? And do what? Hang around in Lima? Britt, most of the colleges you applied to are in California, it's not like that's next door to Lima either."

"I just figure, well, can't they hold your place?"

"No, they can't, unless I can prove extenuating circumstances, which I don't think are going to include 'because my girlfriend has to repeat senior year'!" Santana got up. "You do realize that after telling my folks, I came here because I thought you would be happy for me, right?" Brittany just shrugged.

"I'm sure it's a huge deal, I just don't understand why you can't wait a year," she said. "I don't think I like the idea of you being so far away."

"Well that's sweet and all, but if I postponed Berklee, and you got into somewhere like UCLA, what then?"

"I dunno."

"That's two days of driving."

"I know. But if you go to Berklee, San, I don't think long distance is such a good idea."

"Now you're telling me to choose between you and the college that didn't even figure into my dreams until two hours ago?" Santana stared at her girlfriend.

"Way it sounds, you aren't choosing," Brittany said. "I don't get a look in."

"Do you even know what this means to me?" Santana said. "I will be the first woman in my family to go to college. And graduate. How can you not support that?"

"How can you just bail on me?"

"I'm not bailing," Santana said. "God, Britt, it's not like I'm road tripping or just taking off. This is college, it's the rest of my life."

"Then it's the rest of _your_ life." Santana was openmouthed and tears began forming in her eyes.

"Okay," she said. "Though I have to say, Britt, I didn't think you were that girl. But I guess it's better I know now, instead of wasting any more time with someone who can't even be happy about one of the best things that ever happened to me." She slammed the door and drove home.

Santana ran a fingertip along the text.

_Miss Lopez, after reviewing your transcript and audition tapes, as well as based on your interview, we are pleased to offer you a place in our incoming freshman class for the next academic semester._

_Welcome to The Berklee College of Music!_

She still couldn't believe it. She picked up the phone and rang the only other person she could think of who would care.

"Q," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Making a list of stuff I need to buy before Yale," she said. "Why?"

"I'm picking you up for coffee."

"Are you okay? You're being weird."

"I am both okay and not okay. I'll explain, just… Will you come?"

"Sure," she said. "I need to stop with my chronic list making." Santana grabbed the letter and stuck it in the glove compartment. It was still early, so she picked Quinn up and drove toward the Lima Bean.

"So, San. What the hell is going on here?" Quinn said.

"Did Britt tell you she has to repeat her senior year?" Santana asked.

"No. Can't she do summer school?"

"Apparently not. She failed too many subjects and can't make enough credits."

"So you're upset Britt has to repeat?" Quinn looked confused.

"I was at first," Santana said. "Now I'm more upset that she broke up with me."

"She WHAT?" Quinn was shocked. "No way. Not you two, not possible. What happened?"

"In the glove compartment," Santana said, pulling into a car space. Quinn raised an eyebrow and opened the glove compartment. She pulled the letter out and read it, her eyes widening before she got too far in.

"Holy crap, Santana, you got into The Berklee College of Music!" she exclaimed, hugging her excitedly. "That's amazing! Jesus, that's a hell of a school." She kept reading until she realized how quiet Santana was.

"San?"

"Yes?"

"What does this have to do with Britt?"

"She told me if I go to Berklee, we're over. She basically said if I love her, I'll stay in Lima and I should get Berklee to defer my spot."

"Is she insane? You can't pass this up, Santana."

"That's the reaction I thought I'd get from her," Santana said, getting out of the car. "Instead, I got an ultimatum. Berklee, or Brittany."

"Well, I know you love Britt, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Santana." Quinn stopped. "Christ. What are you going to do?" They ordered coffee and sat down.

"Am I crazy for expecting Britt to be supportive of this?"

"No, it's awesome! I'm so happy for you, and she should be, too. I didn't even know you applied."

"Not many people knew," Santana admitted. "Mr Schue helped me put the package together. I thought it was a long shot, but apparently I have a good extra curricular transcript, my grades are good, and they liked my audition."

"Clearly."

"Mr Schue put a whole bunch of stuff on there I didn't even think about. Glee, obviously, Cheerios, I forgot to include West Side Story, of all things. Also, I apparently managed a successful presidential campaign, and started an anti-bullying campaign," Santana said. "It felt like a stretch, but hey, look at me now. And Mr Schue and Shelby Corcoran wrote awesome letters of recommendation."

"Well it sucks that Britt's being ridiculous. She'll come around." She sipped the coffee in front of her. Santana just stared at her own.

"I don't know," Santana said. "Because even if she does, I can't see how it's remotely fair, but I'd feel guilty for leaving."

"Oh, San." Quinn gripped her hand lightly. "I'm sorry your awesome news got squashed. But I'm happy for you, and everyone else will be, too."

"Except for the one person who should have been most happy," Santana mumbled. "Do you want to stay the night at mine? My folks are out of town, and I'm probably too bummed out to stay at home alone without eating every bit of ice cream in the freezer."

"As long as we compromise and eat _some_ of the ice cream," Quinn said, a smile lightly tugging at her lips.

"Deal. Thanks Quinn, you're the best friend ever," Santana said.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Santana's phone beeped. It was early, just before the alarm was due to go off, making it practically criminal. Both girls sat up.

_Are we still fighting? _

"It's Britt," Santana said. "She wants to know if we're still fighting."

"What are you going to say?"

"Well, that all depends on if she still doesn't want me to go to Berklee." She typed her reply.

_Depends – I'm still going to Berklee. Are you still mad about that?_

Brittany texted back almost immediately.

_You're still planning on going even though I don't want you to?_ Santana groaned.

_Yes – so I guess we're still fighting._

"That's not an encouraging sound," Quinn said. She was tying her hair back and gathering her stuff for the bathroom.

"She still doesn't want me to go to Berklee," Santana said. "I can't be with her if that's her attitude. I hate it, because you know, it's Britt. This is like, the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. But… maybe I should stay."

"Could you imagine Finn telling Rachel not to go to NYADA and her doing that? Blaine telling Kurt, even though he's a junior and still has to do senior year? Any normal boyfriend, or girlfriend in your case, would be over the moon for you. So don't even consider deferring Berklee, San. I'm serious. I'll kick her ass if I have to, but you're going," Quinn said. Santana tossed her phone to the side.

"Life would be so much easier if you were my girlfriend, Quinn," Santana said, and she got up. She didn't see the blush creep across Quinn's cheeks as she hurriedly left the room.

Santana had hoped to get away to homeroom without running into Brittany since she figured it was going to be really awkward. But Brittany was at her locker, with a very upset look on her face.

"We need to talk," Brittany said.

"Not if we're just going to say everything we've already said," Santana said, getting her books out. She closed her locker and went to walk away, but Brittany put a hand on her shoulder.

"Santana, don't walk away, please." She turned around.

"Anything new you wanted to add?" she said coldly.

"I just – I don't get why you'd want to go when I can't go with you," Brittany said.

"Have you even heard what I've been saying to you, Britt? This is an internationally sought after school. So many people would kill to be in my place, and I'm betting every one of their girlfriends or boyfriends would be more supportive than what you're being."

"That's not fair," Britt said. "What about supporting me?" People were starting to look at them. Miss Pillsbury was walking toward them.

"Problem, ladies?" she said. "People are staring."

"It's nothing," Santana said. "We're fighting because Britt wants me to stay in Lima while she repeats her senior year." Brittany rolled her eyes.

"There's a bit more to it than that," she said. Miss Pillsbury eyed them both.

"Maybe you should move this conversation out of the hallway," she suggested. "I have some time if you want to talk it out."

"Whatever," Santana said. She and Brittany followed her to her office, sitting down as the bell rang.

"So, what's this about you repeating senior year?" she said to Brittany.

"I found out yesterday I don't have enough credits to graduate," Brittany said. "I have to retake senior year."

"And you're upset because Santana doesn't want to stay in Lima," she said. "Santana, where are you going to be? You had a few letters coming."

"I found out I got accepted to the Berklee College of Music yesterday as well," Santana said. Miss Pillsbury looked impressed.

"Congratulations, Santana!" she said. "That's a very tough school to get into."

"Thank you," she replied pointedly. "See, that's kind of what I expected from you, Britt."

"I said I was happy for you," Brittany said.

"Actually, it was more, 'I'm happy for you or whatever', if I recall," Santana replied. "And I get that Britt's bummed that she has to stay in Lima, but this is a huge deal. I can't pass it up."

"And I feel like she's expecting me to support her, even though she won't support me by staying," Britt said. "Clearly I need the help."

"You're going to have people here," Santana exploded. "Your parents! Mr Schue, Blaine, Artie, Tina, the Cheerios… I'm going to school in Boston, where I'll know nobody, and I thought I'd be able to count on my girlfriend's support!"

"What are you feelings about that, Brittany?" Miss Pillsbury asked. Brittany just shrugged.

"But there's more," Santana said. "Apart from Berklee, I applied to schools in the Midwest, so I was relatively close to home for my family. Which Britt knew about. My family, by the way, was so happy about Berklee they cried and activated the Lopez telephone network and I fielded phone calls for a solid hour. Britt applied to four schools, one being Ohio State, the other three were in California."

"Really?" Miss Pillsbury said.

"It makes me feel like it's okay for her to move to the West Coast, but me going to Boston is somehow secondary to that," Santana explained. "I was happy for her to go to USC or UCLA or freaking Oxford if she got in. I don't think it's unreasonable to want to go to my dream college." She wiped at the tears that were sliding down her cheeks again.

"You feel like Brittany's making you choose between her and Berklee?"

"She is." Santana said it flatly.

"Any kind of girlfriend would stay," Brittany said.

"Wrong," Santana said, standing up and grabbing her books, "Any _decent_ girlfriend wouldn't let me stay." She left Miss Pillsbury's office and slipped into the bathroom. Her phone vibrated.

_Hey San, where'd you go?_ It was Quinn.

_Bathroom next to Miss Ps office. Left Britt in there._

_Two minutes._ She crammed the phone into her pocket and wiped her eyes with paper towel. Quinn pushed through the door a moment later.

"San? You okay?"

"Not really," she said. "Britt wanted to talk, and we ended up fighting again. I don't think we're going to resolve this one." Quinn just wrapped Santana in a hug and held her.

"That sucks," she said.

"It does," Santana agreed. "A lot. But now I know, Britt obviously isn't who I thought she was."

"People rarely are," Quinn murmured. Santana washed her face and stared into the mirror.

"Ok," she said, half to herself and half to Quinn. "Time for me to stop being a crying mess, and start celebrating the fact that I got into the god damn Berklee College of Music."

"That's my girl," Quinn said.

When Santana got to Glee that afternoon, she wasn't surprised to see that Brittany wasn't there. She hadn't seen her around for the rest of the day. Some of her friends were still on their way, so she pulled Mr Schue and Miss Corcoran aside.

"What's up, Santana?" Mr Schue asked.

"I wanted to tell you before the others…" she said. "I got into Berklee." Mr Schue cheered and hugged her, and Miss Corcoran followed suit.

"That's amazing," he said. "Wow, I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," she said. "For helping and everything." Rachel and Mercedes were looking over, and Mike and Tina had just walked in.

"All right everyone," Mr Schue said. "Quiet down, Santana has some big news she wants to share with you guys." Everyone was looking at her confusedly, except Quinn, who was beaming.

"Uh, yesterday I found out that I got accepted into the Berklee College of Music," she said. The group cheered and clapped, and hugged her. She smiled, and felt properly happy for the first time that day.

"Wow, Santana," Blaine said. "I had no idea you were even thinking about Berklee."

"It was a kind of secret," she said. "I didn't think I had a chance in hell."

"That's a fantastic school," Rachel said. "You should be really proud."

"I am," Santana said, "And I'm really excited. A bit nervous, I think, but more excited."

"You'll kill them all," Finn said. "You're Santana Lopez." He smiled. Santana sat down next to Quinn, and the blonde squeezed her hand.

"That's how happy Britt should have been," she said.

"Okay, we're talking Nationals now," Mr Schue said, as Miss Corcoran began handing out papers. "I have all the tickets to Seattle booked for next week, and the hotel. We're going to be some three to a room, some two. You'll notice, of course, no co-ed sleepovers, and no couple sleepovers, even if you are engaged."

Santana was glad to see that she was paired off with Quinn. She'd normally be trying to entertain the thought of attempting a sneak out to hook up with Britt, but she honestly didn't feel like they'd be together by then.

"A local community center has graciously donated a wheelchair accessible bus to us for the duration of the competition," Will said. "Now, last year, we were really underprepared in terms of our set list, and even our mental state. The set list is finalized, as we voted on last rehearsal."

"Make sure your parents keep the second copy of our itinerary," Mr Schue said insistently. "Miss Pillsbury, Miss Corcoran and I have put all of our cell numbers on there, and they can call us anytime. While in Seattle, not so much roaming around freely guys… me included. Vocal exercises the night we arrive, warm up in the morning. We drew twenty second, which is late, so stay hydrated and for the love of god, don't kill your voices or outfits."

"What happens when we make it to the finals?" Tina said.

"Then we vote on the set list we want to use," Mr Schue said. "But we've got them absolutely nailed guys. This is our year. So, vocal warm ups followed by – "

"We know," Puck said. "Perfecting the opening of Breathe Me." Mr Schue had found an incredibly challenging vocal arrangement of a song, and asked them to learn it. They all adored the arrangement, but it was definitely challenging, so challenging in fact that Rachel had given up the lead to Santana after it became evident that the high notes weren't strong enough.

"I'll sub for Brittany," Shelby Corcoran said. "Quinn, she said you had to drop something by anyway, can you take this other paperwork to her?" Quinn did her best to mask the fact that she had no idea what Miss Corcoran was talking about.

"Sure," she said. "I'll drop them by." They began doing their vocal warm ups.


	3. Chapter 3

_A big thank you to everyone who favourited or reviewed this story. Your feedback makes me feel all the warm squishy feelings._

* * *

Quinn pulled up at Brittany's house and knocked. Brittany answered.

"Hey, Quinn."

"Hey," Quinn said uncertainly. They studied each other for a moment, trying to feel out where the other stood.

"You think I'm being unreasonable," Brittany said.

"I think you're crazy," Quinn said, handing the papers to her. "You should be doing everything in your power to make sure she gets there."

"I'm not going to advocate my girlfriend moving thirteen hours away."

"But she was happy for you when you wanted to move forty eight hours away," Quinn said. "USC was your number one school."

"I don't think I have to explain myself to you," Brittany said.

"That's fine," Quinn said. "I don't want to hear it anyway. Are you still coming to Nationals?"

"Yeah, I just… not today." Quinn turned to leave, but at the last minute, turned around.

"Look Britt, your plans might have gotten postponed for a year. But how the hell does that give you the right to crush Santana's forever? Don't answer me, just think about it. This is huge. Massive. It'll be the biggest thing that's ever happened to her. Don't make not going the biggest thing she regrets." She got back into her car and drove home.

Brittany closed the door and sat on her couch. Quinn's words had stung a little, even a lot. She was kinda mad that she had failed senior year. She knew she wasn't the smartest person out there, but she'd never actually failed a grade, except for when it counted most. And she had applied to schools in California, hoping she could get some good dancing coaching on the side. And Santana had supported her.

"She's leaving me behind whether I like it or not," Brittany said out loud. "And it is her dream school. Quinn's right." She texted Santana.

_I know we're not speaking, but I have to say this. Go to Berklee. And I love you, but we need to break up. Because somehow you getting into your dream school turned me into a bitch and I don't like it._

She hit send, and almost instantly her phone rang.

"Santana?"

"Explain that text to me?"

"Quinn was here, and she said that just because my dreams got put on hold, doesn't mean I should make you give yours up. So I want you to go to Berklee."

"You want me to go now?"

"I do."

"But you're breaking up with me anyway?" Santana was confused.

"Yes, and it's not because I don't love you. I'm always gonna love you, San. But somehow I turned into a jealous bitch, in two days. I don't like that. I don't like that I was that girl. And the thought of you being in Boston kills me, but maybe if we let it happen, and see what comes next…"

"I think I get it," Santana sighed. "And I love you, too, Britt. But you might be right. We're both too… inflexible? Inflexible, yeah. About what we want from each other. And we were probably going to have this conversation sooner or later. With me going to Berklee, or you to California."

"Wow. This blows."

"It sure does. Do you think we can still be friends?"

"I hope so," Brittany said. "But maybe give me a few days? I'll need to separate you from that part of my brain."

"That's probably a good idea," Santana said.

"And San?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I was kind of assy about it before," Brittany said. "But I'm proud of you for getting into Berklee. I always knew you were that good, even when you didn't."

"Thanks, Britt." Santana hung up her phone and an odd sense of calm came over her. She didn't feel particularly fantastic, but at least she felt resolved. She looked around her room. There were a million photos over the walls that had Brittany in them. A lot of them also had Quinn in them, when they were the unstoppable unholy trinity.

She put some music on and looked around at all the photos. She put her fingers on a photo of herself and Brittany that Tina had taken one day at Glee on her cell. They were just sitting and talking, but Tina had said that they looked so in love, she had to snap it. She pulled the photo off the wall, and put it on her desk. Then she kept going, taking down any photo of her and Brittany being coupley. She figured the quicker she got used to not thinking of Britt like that, the easier it would be.

The stack of photos on the desk was pretty big by the time she was done, and the wall had gaping holes in it. Most of the photos that were left were unholy trinity photos, photos of her and Quinn, Glee photos and shots of her and her family. She moved them all one to the one wall.

The house was quiet and she didn't like it. Her parents would be home the next afternoon. Normally she would invite Britt over, and they'd do something dumb like marathon the American Pie movies and try to bake brownies. She turned her music off, and noticed her cell blinking.

_Got plans for dinner? _It was Quinn.

_Nope._

_Be ready in ten minutes. Casual._ Santana shrugged and grabbed a light jacket. She double checked her pocket for her keys, and pulled the door closed just as Quinn pulled up.

"Hey miss thing," Quinn said. "Get in."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere not fancy, where the food will be good," Quinn said. She refused to say any more, even when Santana pressed the issue. They pulled up out the front of a house she recognized.

"What are we doing at Rachel Berry's house?" Santana asked. Quinn got out of the car and continued her silence, forcing Santana to follow her. She walked straight in the front door.

"Q, we can't just barge in-" Santana said, and stopped in shock.

"Surprise!" everyone yelled. There was a giant banner hung over the dining room wall that said Congratulations Santana! Her friends from Glee were all there, waiting, it seemed, for her.

"What the actual hell is this?" she said.

"For you," Rachel said. "You were at the huge shindig my parents threw me and Kurt for getting into NYADA, we kind of felt like you deserved a big party too. It was kind of short notice…"

"Well…" Santana started. She was genuinely moved. "Thanks guys. It really means a lot to me that you want to celebrate." She looked around and saw that all eyes were on her. And that Brittany had managed to come. She smiled a small smile at Santana and nodded her head just a little.

"Come on," Blaine said. "The food is ready." They all sat down around the gigantic dining table, with Rachel's dads acting as servers until all the food was out.

"A toast," Leroy said. "To yet another outstandingly talented young woman." He raised his glass. "May Berklee give you everything you ever wanted. To Santana." Everyone toasted and the celebration began.

It was getting late into the night, and people were still milling around. Santana excused herself to go to the bathroom and almost ran directly into Brittany.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Brittany replied unevenly. They regarded each other warily.

"Thanks for coming," Santana said. "It means a lot to me that you're here."

"Well," Brittany said, "Rachel called and I didn't have the heart to tell her we'd literally just broken up." She looked tired. Santana's heart suddenly ached.

"All the same," she said. Britt touched her wrist, and Santana couldn't help but lean in and kiss her. It was quick and soft, but both girls pulled back like lightning had struck.

"Jesus," Brittany said. "I think I'm going to go home."

"Britt, you don't-"

"I do," Brittany said. "Because we broke up. And it took a grand total of three seconds for us to forget that. I know we both need to not be together, but it's hard. Too hard."

"It is, isn't it?" Santana said. "I'm sorry. About the kiss."

"I did kiss you back," Brittany said. "I think we've covered it. I love you. You love me. We can't be together, not now. We need some space, don't you think?"

"I think it's smart," Santana said. Brittany walked down the hall, and Santana let herself in to the bathroom. She swore to herself and splashed water on her face. She could still feel Brittany right in front of her. She used the restroom and went back downstairs to play eager party recipient for a few more hours.


	4. Chapter 4

"Picture perfect," Mercedes said drily, as they emerged from the airport. An old but well-kept bus was waiting with a driver holding a sign that said _McKinley, Lima OH._ Mr Schue went and shook hands with the smiling man, and the rest of the Glee club stared at the overcast, almost-raining sky.

"It rains here a lot," the driver said. "On and off all day." The boys began piling luggage into the hold under the bus body, and the girls got on. Miss Corcoran was already calling Lima to check on Beth. Rachel's dads had kindly offered to watch her, since Rachel and Beth were half sisters, sort of.

They arrived at the hotel not long after and checked in, Mr Schue handing out key cards to everyone. He reminded them again that the way they behaved reflected on McKinley, and sent them all to go and get settled in and get lunch at their own leisure, but to meet in the lobby for pre-dinner rehearsal at four thirty.

Quinn and Santana were neighbored by Rachel, Tina and Mercedes on one side, and Blaine and Artie on the other. The room was pretty much what they expected, twin beds and a bathroom, a little balcony and a pay as you view television. There was a tiny couch, and a table held a bunch of leaflets about restaurants in the area and a room service menu.

"Just as I thought," Santana said. "Horribly overpriced. Want to find some lunch? I'm starving."

"You're only hungry because you refuse to eat breakfast," Quinn said.

"The only thing that should be consumed before nine am is coffee," Santana said. "Coffee is a bean, so whatever. Breakfast." Quinn rolled her eyes and hung her Nationals outfit in the closet. Santana followed suit, knowing if they got too wrinkled, Mr Schue would not be impressed. Santana checked to see it wasn't raining too hard outside, and sighed.

"It's not raining exactly," she relayed, "But my hair is not going to be straight the entire time we're here. No point even bringing the damn straightener. Latina curls it is."

"Come on," Quinn said, holding open the door. "Lunch. Plus, I don't know what you're complaining about, your hair is gorgeous when it's curly."

They walked a circle of a few blocks, seeing what sort of places were on offer. They ended up eating at a small café and deli that was tucked into the side alley of a massive bookstore. The food was good, and the coffee was better, and they wandered next door into the bookstore at Quinn's request.

"I love bookstores," Quinn said, running her fingers along a row of books.

"I know," Santana said. "Are we looking for anything in particular?"

"No, just browsing," Quinn said. "But if you get bored, there's a music department on the other wall."

"Call me when you're ready to leave," Santana said immediately, and went to browse the shelves of music. She was considering buying some sheet music to take to Berklee, when a sales assistant in battered kicks and jeans interrupted.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked. He pushed his hair out of his face, tying it back with a rubber band.

"Not really, just browsing your sheet music," she said. She had a few books in hand.

"Cool," he replied. "What are you into?"

"A bit of everything," Santana said. "Just trying to decide what I should be taking to college."

"I'm curious as to why you have Carole King," the guy said. "I don't want to generalize, but most girls come in looking for Adele."

"I'm not most girls," Santana said. "I happen to like Carole King, and was just a little depressed there's no Melanie Safka. Nothing wrong with Adele, she's good for a bit of a belt and cry."

"So what college are you going to? Cornish?"

"No," Santana said. "Berklee. I'm in town for Glee Nationals."

"Berklee? Wow." He smiled. "Carole King, huh? A bit retro."

"Songwriting doesn't age," Santana said. "If a song was well written in the seventies, it's still going to be good in 2050. And music that sucks will always suck." The guy laughed.

"Your candor is most entertaining," he said. Quinn walked up.

"I'm ready," she said. She had two books with her. "You?"

"I'm good," she said. She held out the music. "Carole King, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse."

"Good choices," Quinn said.

"Nice talking to you, Berklee," the guy said. He waved them away.

"What was that about?" Quinn said.

"Nothing," she replied, digging in her purse for a credit card. "He asked if I needed a hand, we talked about songwriters."

"I think he was giving you that look," Quinn said suggestively.

"He can give me that look all he wants," Santana said. "Not gonna happen." She checked her watch. "We should probably head back, get our stuff sorted for rehearsal."

They gathered in the lobby on time, and Mr Schue herded them into a conference room for rehearsal. After he declared them ready, they sat in the hotel restaurant for dinner as a group, before going to their rooms. It wasn't particularly early, or late, but Quinn and Santana simply went back to their room after dinner and spent the evening reading Cosmos and painting their toenails.

The next morning, the group had a quick vocal warm up before breakfast.

"That's enough," Mr Schue said. "Try not to wear your voices out between now and showtime, and we'll probably throw in a few scales before we go in."

They filed into the hotel restaurant and had an average hotel buffet breakfast, Santana caving and eating some yogurt and muesli simply because Rachel told her no less than six times that now was not the day to faint onstage due to low blood sugar. After breakfast they all went and got ready, making sure they had everything they needed, then they boarded the bus for the theatre.

Santana hadn't felt nervous in the slightest, until she saw the groups of students in matching clothing swarming all over the building. New Directions wasn't on until late, so they decided it wasn't worth the risk of wearing the pale blue dresses and shirts during the day and possibly ruining them. A steward pointed them to their green room, gave a few other vague directions regarding fire exits, and left them to their own devices. Most of the others decided to go into the theatre and watch some of the competition, but Santana had different plans.

"I need coffee," she said. "I saw a place a block away. Anyone?" She was immediately taken up on the offer by Blaine, Quinn and Miss Corcoran. They walked in the half-drizzle to the Starbucks down the street, and joined a queue of harassed office workers.

"So, Santana," Miss Corcoran said, "How is your Berklee prep coming?"

"Not much so far," she admitted. "I'm going to Boston with my folks next weekend, and we're going to start from there, I guess."

"I was thinking," the older woman said, "You'll be going into classes with kids who have been reading, performing and writing music for years."

"That's a terrifying prospect," Santana mused.

"Anyway, I wanted to offer you something… Over the summer, I don't have anything scheduled apart from running around after Beth. I wanted to offer to teach you some more of the theoretical side of music. I know you can read it-"

"A little," Santana confirmed. "Why are you doing this?"

"I guess you're a reminder of how hard I had to fight at eighteen," she said. "But I'm serious. I can have you reading and writing music by the end of the summer."

"That's very generous of you," Santana said. "I don't know how much we'd be able to pay you, though."

"No payment necessary," Miss Corcoran said. "It'll be payment enough having a person in the house I can have an actual conversation with."

"Wow," Santana said. "Of course I'll accept. Thanks, a lot." The barista behind the counter caught their eye. "At least let me buy you some coffee."

"Deal," the teacher responded, and they stepped up.

The group was huddled nervously in a circle. They had just come off of the stage after giving, what Mr Schue thought, was their best performance ever. He had even hugged Santana, telling her that the Breathe Me arrangement had sounded perfect. Miss Corcoran was reassuring the group that there was no way they wouldn't make it into the finals.

"How long til the list goes up?" Kurt said. "I think I'm going to puke."

"An hour," Mr Schue said. "Three more schools, then a little time for deliberation. But guys, that was so amazing, and I'm really proud of you."

"Did you see how excited the crowd got when we started Everlong?" Puck said. "Blaine, you're a genius, coming up with that." They had tried to build a theme around songs about breathing, and had settled on Breathe Me very quickly. Rachel and Tina had discovered an old Kylie Minogue song called Breathe, and they'd struggled to find a song that would show off the boys range, until Blaine had walked in with a Foo Fighters CD and played Everlong. When Dave Grohl had sung, "Breathe out, so I can breathe you in", they'd been committed. It had worked perfectly to pump the crowd up.

"Please," Blaine said, "Like anyone is going to remember anything but Santana in Breathe Me."

"You were all amazing," Miss Pillsbury said. "I'm so, so proud of you guys." Mr Schue told them all to grab some water and try and compose themselves before the list went up. They obeyed the first direction, but failed at composing themselves, clutching each others hands and worrying about the finals list. A steward knocked on the door and told them the list was up. As a group they walked down the hall. The crowd around the finals list was huge and they couldn't make it out, so Finn and Puck wriggled their way through the crowd until they could see over some of the other kids heads.

"Hells yeah!" Puck yelled, and he and Finn high fived. They both turned around ecstatically, and they knew they'd made it. Chaos erupted in the hallway as New Directions and their chaperones jumped around like maniacs. A man pushed his way over to Mr Schue and handed him some more paperwork. He read it and they moved to a nearby annex to discuss what was next.

"OK, so we'll draw for finals slots in a half hour," Mr Schue said. "We have to inform them of our set list as well." He kept reading to himself. "Also, guys, the MVPs will be selected from groups that made finals. That's new."

"Not really," Miss Corcoran said. "Jesse St James won it twice. Anyway, set list guys. You have the Michael Jackson set list or the Jazz set. Thoughts?"

"As much as I would love to sing Le Jazz Hot," Kurt said, "We kind of have a track record with Michael."

"I agree," Santana said. "Plus, I wanna hear Mercedes throw down on I'll Be There. Kills me." Mercedes rolled her eyes playfully.

"Hands up for MJ," Artie said, and every hand went up.

"Done," Mr Schue said. "Alright back to the green room, I'll come find you when we're done." They all filed back into the green room and took the opportunity to run through some of the dance steps they'd put together. Mr Schuester pushed through the door.

"Alright," he said. "We drew third out of twelve. Not bad. They've got the set list, and that means we need to be warmed up at the start of finals round tomorrow. I'm super proud of you guys, and I know we can win this thing. But now, back to the bus and back to the hotel to change for dinner." They gathered all their stuff together and followed Mr Schue back to the bus.

Dinner was at a nearby restaurant, where they looked pleased to be getting a lot of business, but less pleased when Rachel and Kurt thoroughly critiqued every vegetarian and vegan option before deciding what they wanted.

Dinner began to run late, and Mr Schue began encouraging them to finish up so they could get a good night of rest in before finals. They all got back to their rooms and despite Mr Schuester, Miss Pillsbury and Miss Corcoran retiring almost immediately, most have them had no chance of getting to sleep. Quinn found Rachel in the hall and they decided that changing nail polish colors might be a good omen for the following day, and Santana vacated the room quickly, finding Artie and Blaine in the always-open café downstairs. They sat at an out of the way table at the back and talked about their chances at winning the next day.

"I think we have a pretty good shot," Blaine said. "Today's round left a strong impression."

"Right?" Artie said. "I'm pretty sure that lady from Cornish was crying when Breathe Me finished."

"It was really one of your best performances, Santana," Blaine said.

"Thanks," she said. "But I'm with you guys, if we sing Michael like I know we've done before, the other schools can't possibly compete. I'm serious, Mercedes gives me chills." They made some more small talk, about Berklee, about McKinley, about the exceedingly obvious fact that Santana and Brittany had broken up, before realizing that it was far later than they intended to be awake. They went back upstairs and into their rooms. Quinn was already in bed, reading one of the books she'd bought.

"Hey," she said. "I was looking for you. Nothing important."

"I was having a coffee with Blaine and Artie," Santana said. "Are your nails all pretty now?"

"Sure are," she said, holding them up. "Are you nervous for tomorrow?"

"Not as nervous as I thought I would be," Santana said. "I guess maybe tomorrow I will be, I'm just tired now." Quinn yawned as she said the word tired, and they laughed. Santana changed for bed and they bid each other good night.

The bus trip back to the theatre the next morning was tense, everyone was nervously following the warm up drills Miss Corcoran was leading them through.

"Come on guys," she said. "Head in the game, you all look like petrified deer. These judges are looking for something entirely different today, you have to step it up. You are good. Great. You can win this. Trust me." They followed the remainder of the drills with more vigor, and disembarked the bus and immediately went to change into their stage outfits. Then they waited in the wings until school number two filed offstage. The curtain came down, and Mr Schuester stole a final moment.

"Three years guys, and we're here. Let's make it count. Kill it." They took their positions on stage, and the curtain raised as the opening notes of Bad played out over the theatre.

The performance passed in a blur, and nobody realized just what was going on until it finished. They looked at each other after the curtain fell, not able to recall a single mistake, or moment of hesitation. Mr Schue and Miss Corcoran were beaming proudly.

"That's it guys!" Mr Schue said. "Unbelievable!" They group hugged.

"That was amazing," Mercedes said. Sam wrapped an arm around her.

"It was," he said. "And so were you."

"You were all incredible," Mr Schue said. "Wind down, and we'll sneak in to watch the last schools perform." He left them to calm themselves down, like it was even possible.

It seemed both an eternity and an instant before they were crammed on to the stage, waiting for the announcement from the balding man, and a lady who looked like a hawk.

"First we'd like to crown the MVP's," the man said. "The MVPs for this years Glee Nationals competition are… from St Xavier's, Massachusetts, Jonathan Harris, and from McKinley, Ohio, Santana Lopez!" Santana didn't even register they were talking about her until Mercedes hugged her and told her to hurry her skinny ass up. She accepted a trophy from the balding man and shook hawk-lady's hand, and went back to her group. Puck grabbed her in a bear hug until she couldn't breathe. Even Rachel was applauding.

"And now, the moment you've been waiting for," hawk-lady said. "Second runner up is… St Xavier's, Cambridge, Massachusetts." Everyone clapped as the all-male choir received their trophy.

"And first runner up, Stone Valley Senior College, Newark, Delaware!" All the New Directions, including Mr Schuester and Miss Corcoran, gripped each others hands tightly. Rachel had her eyes squeezed shut.

"And the Glee National Champions for 2012 are…" Santana willed hawk-lady to hurry up before she had a coronary. "William McKinley High School, Lima, Ohio!" They all jumped around screaming like madmen. Mr Schue was crying freely. Santana hugged Rachel, then Blaine, then Quinn, and everyone else in succession until she was handed another trophy. They raised them high in the air, cheering, and the whole room cheered with them.


	5. Chapter 5

The Glee club's win at nationals had people talking all over school. All of a sudden, people were offering to finance them, and students were asking about joining the next year. Mr Schue was ecstatic, since he was losing a lot of his members at graduation. Santana was interviewed and photographed for the local paper with Mr Schuester, and she tried her hardest to downplay her success.

"I'm grateful for the recognition," she said honestly, "But if Rachel hadn't stepped down to help the team in harmonies, you wouldn't be having this conversation with me. This is as much hers as it is mine."

"And your Glee club teacher tells us that you've been accepted into Berklee College of Music?" the interviewer said.

"Yeah, I found out a few weeks ago. I never expected to get into a school like that, I'm so excited, and really nervous. I know it's going to be a lot of hard work, but Miss Corcoran has offered to tutor me over the summer. If it weren't for Mr Schue and Miss Corcoran, I never would have had the idea to apply."

"So, Mr Schuester," the reporter said, "You've got two off to NYADA, and Santana here to Berklee. Heck of a group."

"I could not be prouder of my kids," he replied. "We also have Mike Chang going to Tisch next year. Shelby Corcoran and I have a common philosophy with these guys. They love what they do and they work their butts off, so we're happy to do whatever it takes to help them achieve their dreams." The reporter read through the notes he had taken and declared the interview done. He shook hands with Mr Schuester and Santana, and left.

"That was super awkward," Santana said. "I don't really like talking about myself."

"You did great," Mr Schue said. He checked his watch. "Don't forget, final Glee rehearsal slash party after school today."

"Like I'd forget," she said. The afternoon wore on quickly, and soon the glee kids were gathered in the auditorium, doing what they did best – singing their guts out, impromptu, and laughing the whole time. Mr Schue gave a speech, and cried when he talked about the legacy they helped create, and how much he was going to miss the graduating seniors. Santana teared up, she was always a crier, and noticed Quinn crying too. She clutched her hand, then Mercedes' as well, who was downright sobbing.

After Mr Schue was done making them cry, Rachel decided to get up and say a few words as well, about Mr Schue and Miss Corcoran, and they all cried again. They sang for a while longer, Artie and Tina dedicating a duet to the seniors, then they ate pizza until they felt fat. Mr Schue declared the season out for the summer. They filed out, chatting and making plans for their vacant afternoons.

"Need a ride, San?" Quinn offered. Santana followed out to her car. Quinn continued, "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"My folks and I are flying to Boston," she said. "They wanna have a look at the school and everything."

"Sounds cool," Quinn said. "Fill me in when you get home?"

"Of course," Santana said. "What about you?"

"Tomorrow I'm going with Shelby, Puck and Beth to the zoo," she said. "I'm a little nervous." Shelby and Quinn's history was messy since the adoption and Quinn's brief detour into skankdom. She'd sat down with Shelby and explained she didn't want to take Beth away, she was happy just to see the girl. Santana put a hand on her knee. She knew it must be hard for her friend to know that there was a little girl walking around Lima who should have been hers, but wasn't any more.

"If it gets rough, call me," Santana said. "Any time, Q." Quinn nodded, and pulled up at the Lopez's house. "See you in the morning?"

"Sure," Quinn said. "Wanna leave early and hit up the Lima Bean?"

"I'll pick you up," Santana said. "Seven thirty." She went inside to see her parents.

"Come in mija," her father said. "How was Glee breakup?"

"Good," Santana said. "And teary. But good. When are we leaving for Boston?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," her mother said. "So you'll need to come straight home from school, and pack tonight." She looked over at Santana's father.

"We have to discuss some things with you, Santana," he said. "Sit." Santana was confused, but sat anyway. "Now, your mami and I have been talking. You know we're so proud of you for getting in to Berklee and for getting in to college at all. And we've been discussing how important it is that we support you during this time. We don't want you to have to worry about anything, and just focus on working hard."

"Okay…" Santana said.

"So we have decided that we don't want you to have to worry about living on campus. I know what dorms are like. Noisy, overcrowded, distracting. Your mami and I want to spend the weekend looking for places for you to live while you're at school, and we'll pay for it all."

"Serious, Papi? I'm happy to get a job and pay my own way," she said.

"We know," her mother said, "But we are in a place where we can support you, so we should." Her father pulled out a credit card and put it on the table.

"This is for you," he said. "To pay your bills, buy your things for school, groceries, gas, everything. I know I can trust you not to abuse it, mija. If I see it getting out of control, I'll be very disappointed." Santana hugged her father and mother.

"Thank you," she said. "I won't let you down, I'll be responsible and study hard, I promise." She smiled. "You guys are awesome. Thanks for being so supportive."

"Well," her mother said, after her father left, "I feel bad that we were less supportive in other areas… like with abuela." Santana shook her head and kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Abuela is missing out," Santana said. "Now, want to come help me pack?"

Boston was cooler than Lima, and there was a breeze blowing up. But it was pleasant, and the parks were green instead of the straw color of the ones at home. They didn't have time to do anything apart from dinner and check in to the hotel. Santana couldn't stop staring out the window. She knew Berklee was half a mile west of where she was right now, so the sights she was seeing were going to be home. She snapped a photo of the lights of the city, offset by the warm lanterns hung along the walkway in the park, and sent it to Quinn. She laughed when Quinn sent back a picture of her television, with a rerun of Gossip Girl, and a bag of popcorn. She got into bed, and lay awake for a while, wondering about what things were out in the city for her to discover.

The next morning, her mother woke her early, because she said they had a busy day ahead. Her father wanted to visit Berklee straight away. They ate a quick breakfast and went down to find the school. They located the front desk, where her father enquired to the possibility of a tour. The woman behind the desk said tours for the public ran on Sunday, and asked if they'd like to book. Santana's father said yes, and mentioned that she was a member of the incoming class. The woman smiled at her and said she'd book them in for the student tour, the next day at ten am.

With their original plan thwarted, they decided to look at apartments. Her father had done some research that day, obviously, because he had a detailed list of places he wanted to see, some that were advertised, and some he heard of through friends and colleagues in the area. They met a stream of landlords who were used to students, and saw a similar stream of average to less than desirable apartments.

"Lord," her mother said, "I can't believe people are charging kids money to stay in some of these places." She had almost had a coronary after seeing a bathroom that looked like bleach hadn't made an appearance there since Bill Clinton was in office.

"It's ok," her father said. "We'll have some lunch and walk a bit further, we started at the bottom of the list." They ate lunch, talking excitedly, with her father proposing a toast to the first Lopez woman to attend college. The walk to the nicer part of town wasn't as long as Santana had anticipated. The third apartment they saw was the one she fell in love with.

It wasn't particularly big, but it wasn't cramped. The walls were a deep red. Two bedrooms, and a bathroom that passed her mother's rigorous inspection. The kitchen was clean, and the living room had a floor to ceiling paneled window, with the top part pushing out on to a balcony.

"Oh, Santana," her mother said, "I want this one!" Santana's father was talking with the landlord, who had some initial concerns, having just evicted two Harvard students who threw parties on the roof and cost him a new carpet. He introduced himself to Santana.

"If I let you live here," he said, "Can I expect large gatherings?"

"No," Santana said honestly. "I plan on studying my butt off, and I'm serious about that. I can't afford not to. Put it in the lease if you have to, I don't mind." The man and her father continued in conversation, until he had been worn down.

"I think we can do this," he said. Santana's father helped her fill in the paperwork.

"Are you sure about this Papi?' she asked quietly, when she saw the price of rent. "I'm happy to live in a dorm."

"I'm sure, mija," he said. "You just repay us by working hard, and coming home to see us on holidays, or your mother will kill me."

"I will," she said. "Thank you, so much."

"We believe in you," he said, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "We watched you turn into a woman, Santana. You handled everything with abuela so well, and with being thrown out like that… We're proud of you." She hugged her dad tight, and he cleared his throat before presenting the completed lease form to the landlord. Santana reassured him that he wouldn't regret it. She took a last look around what was now going to be her place. Her heart raced. This was happening.

The next morning they arrived early for the tour of Berklee, clutching Lopez-sized cups of coffee. There were only five other people taking the tour, a mother and son and a young woman accompanied by two friends. The two of them were also in the freshman class for the next semester.

"Santana Lopez," she said, shaking both their hands. The boy's name was Jermaine, and the girl's name was Faith. Jermaine was clearly very shy, as his mother did most of the speaking for him. But Faith turned out to be friendly and just quirky enough that Santana liked her immediately. The tour was run by a junior student who was bluntly honest about life at Berklee, and tried to give them a clear idea of what to expect. They paused for lunch, and the tour guide explained the first couple of weeks to them.

"Depends what you're here for," he said.

"Performance, piano," Faith said.

"Performance, vocal," Santana said. Jermaine mumbled his.

"Orchestral composition." The two girls looked at him, surprised.

"Jermaine, you'll meet the orchestra and write a piece for them. Girls, you'll perform and be placed into your classes. Faith, you'll have to nominate your style three weeks in. Santana, you'll spend six weeks looking at different vocal styles before you have to determine your assessment criteria. And be warned, you'll have to find your own accompaniment and bands. In your O-Week packs you'll get a booklet of musos in the area. Talk them down in price." They continued the tour, seeing classrooms, recording areas, theatre spaces and common areas.

"Are you excited?" Faith asked Santana and Jermaine. Jermaine nodded.

"I can't wait to be out on my own," he said, eyes directing toward his mother. Faith patted him on the arm consolingly.

"I'm just glad I met two people before class started," Santana confessed. "There's nothing more awkward than the first day when no-one knows each other."

"I have a friend who's coming, too," Faith said. "Brandon. He couldn't come this weekend, he has something on."

"I recognize you from somewhere," Jermaine said to Santana. "Where are you from?"

"Ohio," she said. He wrinkled his nose and thought for a moment.

"Lima, Ohio?" he said. She nodded, slightly creeped out.

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"You were MVP at Glee Nationals," he said. "McKinley, right?"

"You were at Nationals?"

"I wrote the arrangements for Stone Valley," he said. "We came runner up to you guys."

"MVP?" Faith said. "Damn, that's pretty cool." They smiled at each other.


	6. Chapter 6

_Many thanks to all of you who have commented on how much you love the story. You guys are excellent. The Quintana friendship is one of my favourites and I wanted to write as much of it as I could. _

* * *

"So I know two people," Santana finished saying to Quinn, "And Faith has already added me on Facebook, and so has her friend Brandon."

"That's awesome," Quinn said, coming out of the change-room. They were shopping for senior prom dresses. "I won't be able to get to Yale until orientation."

"I like that one," Santana said. "That's the best so far." It was an emerald green dress, not as princess-style as the one she'd worn last year. She snapped a photo on her phone so Quinn could have a look at all the dresses in comparison.

"One more," Quinn said. "Though we weren't sure about this one." She disappeared into the change room. Santana's pile of maybe-dresses was hanging in the next change room.

"San? Can you zip me? I can't quite reach." Santana stuck her head and torso in and zipped up the dress, then stepped back as Quinn came out. The dress was perfect.

"I think it wins," Santana said. "Screw not being sure, it's gorgeous." It was a pale silver, and clung to Quinn's body until it reached her hips. There was a split up the skirt, but even that seemed classy on Quinn.

"I think you're right," Quinn said. She stood on tiptoe to emulate the heels she'd be wearing.

"Of course I am," Santana said. "Some sexy bed hair, some smoky eyes…" She took a photo and Quinn got back into her jeans and tank top. They scrolled through the photos. They grimaced at the purple one the shop assistant had said was 'hot right now', and determined that the last dress was definitely their favorite. Then it was Santana's turn.

"Tell me about the zoo," she called to Quinn. "How was Beth?"

"So cute," Quinn said. "She had the best time, running around and pointing at everything. She roared at the lions and kept waving at the monkeys. She's adorable. And Puck is really good with her."

"This one is a no," she said, coming out in a red dress. "Too similar to last year's dress." Quinn agreed, but snapped the photo anyway. "How was Shelby?"

"Good," Quinn replied. "I think she's okay with me now. Beth likes me, and I think that's all that matters. She calls me Aunty Q. And she calls Puck Mr Puck."

"Mr Puck?" Santana laughed. "He must hate that."

"Nope," she said. "He loves it, calls her Miss Beth. Shelby said something about maybe letting Puck and I watch her one day a week over summer, something to do with you and summer class." Santana came out in a black dress.

"I feel like I'm going to a wedding," she said. Quinn took the photo as she continued. "Shelby offered to tutor me in music theory over the summer. It's very generous of her, apparently I'd be really far behind without it." She disappeared and put a new dress on. "Aw, hells yes. This is it, Q."

Santana came out in an electric blue silk dress. It was strapless and looked almost skin tight, not that that was a problem with Santana's body. Quinn took the photo, nodding at her friend that this was the right dress. Santana looked beautiful.

"Hair?" she asked. "Up or down?"

"Down," Santana said. "Don't hide your hair San, it's so gorgeous."

"And some massive ass heels," she said. "Right, we've got dresses. Check that off your list, I know you've got one." They laughed and took the dresses they wanted to the sales counter.

"We'll take these two," Santana said. The clerk rang up their sales for them. She handed them a swatch of material that matched their dresses.

"For your dates," she said. "So they can co-ordinate." They took them, but laughed as they realized they were both going alone.

"How does it happen that the two hottest girls in the damn school are going to senior prom alone?" Santana asked.

"So let's go together," Quinn said. "We're both moving far away, may as well cram some memories in while we can. We won't have to worry about anything but ourselves."

"That, Quinn Fabray, is a goddamn awesome idea," Santana said. "Screw dates, you and me, as if we need anything else. I'll even buy you a corsage."

"Let's do it," Quinn said. They began planning their night at senior prom together.

The night arrived before they knew it, and Santana's father drove her to Quinn's house. Quinn's mom had offered to drive them to prom and to the after party, after which they'd walk back to Santana's, since it was at Drew Lukowski's, and he lived a block and a half away.

Santana had left her hair down, for the most part, remembering that Quinn had told her to keep it that way, just pinning some of the front strands back. She found a pair of gigantic black heels that showed exactly how toned her calves were after all the years of cheerleading. Her mother had cried as she'd come down the stairs, snapped a million photos and made her father swear to take more when they got to Quinn's. Judy answered the door.

"Hello, Anton," she said, "And Santana, you look just gorgeous. Quinn will be down in a second, I think she is looking for lip gloss that won't ruin her lipstick." Anton made small talk with Judy while Santana went upstairs to see Quinn.

Quinn was rummaging through her makeup case talking, or possibly singing, to herself. She was still barefoot, her shoes by the door next to Santana's feet. She was startled when she glanced up and saw Santana in the mirror.

"Jesus," she said. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Santana said. "What can't you find?"

"The clear lip gloss that doesn't smudge my lipstick," Quinn said. "I like to stay glossy." Santana pulled a tube from her bag.

"Please, Q, you know I live for this shit. Best invention ever." Quinn smiled and took the tube, applied to her lips and turned around.

"What do you think?" she asked. Her hair was a little shorter, like when Santana and Brittany had cut it in New York. It was tousled and sprayed into place, and the eyes had the perfect amount of smolder. Quinn looked, as usual, perfect.

"Like a rock star," she said.

"You look pretty damn hot yourself," Quinn said, stepping in to her shoes. "Ok, I'm ready. I'm assuming my mom is waiting with a camera?"

"Sure is," Santana said. "So's my dad." They went downstairs and suffered through the oohs and aahs of their parents, some photo taking and lectures about drinking and partying all night long. They exchanged Then Santana's dad left, and they piled into the Fabray's Audi.

Prom was more fun with Quinn than it had been with any date. They didn't feel any pressure to entertain each other, they just wandered around, commented on the dresses, danced, hung out with their friends, laughed so hard they thought their makeup was going to start running, and danced some more. They didn't pay any attention to the people who whispered to each other asking why Quinn and Santana were at prom together. Tina and Mike said they loved the idea.

"It's awesome," Tina said. "No pressure to find a date, no pressure for sex at the end of the night, no awkward moments when your date comes to pick you up from your house…"

"Exactly," Santana said. "Plus, I get to lord it over every single guy here that I brought the hottest girl in school. I'm getting death stares from the puck-heads."

"Second hottest," Mike said, kissing Tina.

"Awww," Quinn said. "You guys…"

"Seriously," Santana said, "You've got some admirers. I guess last year's prom you were all pale and princess like, and this year you've gone a bit… wilder? With the hair and makeup. Check it out, Brian and Harrison are eyeing you up right now." Quinn subtly looked their way, and shuddered.

"Ew," she said. "That's creepy." Brian nudged Harrison, and he came over to them.

"Quinn, Santana," he said. "Nice night. Quinn, want to dance?" He smelled like cheap beer and was slurring already.

"No thanks," Quinn said. "Can't leave my date here."

"Santana's your date?" he asked. "I'd love to see whatever after-party you've got planned." Santana rolled her eyes, and was about to tear him a new one.

"Listen, Brian," Quinn said, "You're drunk and making a fool of yourself. I'm going to do the classy thing and let you walk away before Santana here takes your balls and stuffs them down your throat. Walk away. And for the record, there's a better chance that I'd sleep with Santana than you, whether you were drunk or not." She patted him on the cheek and he slunk off. Santana laughed uproariously.

"Q!" she said. "Where the holy hell have you been hiding that attitude. I loved it."

"Most of the boys at this school are ridiculous," she said. "They all wanted in my pants when I was with Finn, they talked about me and said hurtful things when I was pregnant, tried to get in my pants again when I was a skank, and then acted like I was pretending to be too good for them after that."

"You are too good for them," Santana said. "It's all good, we'll just make sure you find yourself a Yale hottie."

"And we'll get you a Boston babe, and blow this town," Quinn said. "Come on, let's dance."

The rest of prom went past uneventfully, and they moved on to the after party. It wasn't the best party they'd been to, and things went from bad to worse when Drew's brother showed up with some of his college buddies and some kegs. Quinn and Santana decided to leave. Most of the other Glee kids had gone home long ago. They pushed through the front door and wound their way through drunk and semi-drunk teenagers.

"Where you going?" called a boy they didn't recognize. He was sitting with Brian on the railing of the porch. "Brian says you should ditch the dyke and come back to the party." Santana wheeled around, and Quinn grabbed her hand. Then the boy and Brian found themselves face first in the garden. Puck was standing behind where they had been.

"What the hell man?" the boy said. "The fuck was that?"

"It was you getting a lesson in watching your god damn mouth," he said.

"Jesus," Brian said. "It's just Santana and Quinn, the dyke and teen mom. No need to get all fatherly, except…" Puck punched him clean in the jaw.

"Teen mom? That's funny to you? Will you start calling me baby daddy now? No, didn't think so. And Santana might be a dyke, but she's _my_ god damn dyke. I hear you disrespect her again, it won't just be your jaw," he said. Then to the stranger, "Get your boy inside before he gets his ass kicked." Puck jumped the railing and landed near Quinn's feet.

"Uh," Santana said. "Thanks, Puck."

"No problem," he said. "Can I offer you ladies an escort? This party blows." He walked with them to Santana's house and made sure they got inside before he left.

"Question," Santana said, after they'd removed all their makeup and gotten into their pajamas. "When did Puck

turn out to be a decent guy?"

"Freaked him out last time he saw his dad," Quinn said. "He didn't want to end up like him." She tied her hair back loosely and got into the right side of the bed. Santana got into the left, same as they had since they were little kids.

"Plans for tomorrow?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing specific," Santana said.

"Brunch?" Quinn suggested. "I need to go into Columbus if you want to make a day trip."

"It's a date," Santana said. "I need to buy some stuff for Berklee, anyway, Mami made me a list. She hasn't stopped making lists. But she's right, some of it I do need." She yawned. "I had a good time tonight, Q. Thanks."

"Me too," Quinn said. "Best fun I ever had at a dance." Santana closed her eyes and was almost instantly asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi everyone, I was really really absent for a while! Short stint in hospital (nothing serious, just a chest infection that wouldn't go away), but I'm back now. Thank you to everyone who continually reads and reviews this - I love you all!_

* * *

The girls were driving back from Columbus with most of the backseat full of things they needed for college. Even though they still had the whole of summer to prepare, they were getting nervous. Santana's mother had a whole notepad full of different lists, and she told Santana it was more to calm her down about the fact that her baby girl was moving away.

"Can you believe we're graduating on Wednesday?" Santana asked. Quinn smiled, eyes obscured by her massive sunglasses.

"I kind of feel like it's not going to happen until it does," she replied. "And it does suck that Britt won't be graduating with us, but I can't wait."

"It does suck," Santana agreed. She and Brittany were tentative friends again. "The Unholy Trinity should have graduated together."

"She'll be okay," Quinn said. "She's been better at making friends than either of us. Half the junior year are already her friend anyway."

"Did I tell you my parents are letting me have a grad day party?" Santana said. "Not the whole world, just Glee. Barbecue, pool, sunshine, last big memories. Most people I've spoken to are having lunch with their families, so it's a midafternoon deal."

"You know I'll be there," Quinn said. "Mom's coming, Dad isn't."

"My folks said your mom was welcome to come along," Santana said. "Mami asks if she's okay all the time."

"I'll let her know," Quinn said. "So have you and Shelby set up times or whatever for your tutoring?"

"We're doing nine am starts every day," Santana said. "Til one, that way she can still have heaps of time with Beth, and in her words, I can get my summer on."

"Any idea what she'll be teaching you?"

"More about the theory side of music I guess. She said that a lot of these kids are going to be able to read and write music at the drop of a hat. I'm a bit behind the curve, so to speak," Santana said. "What are your plans?"

"Sunshine, relaxing, packing, preparing," she said. "Feel free to come and chill whenever. I plan on camping out by the pool as much as I can. Get real brown, read some books."

"Deal," Santana said.

"Breakfast the morning of grad?" Quinn asked.

"Hells yeah," she replied, before they lapsed into a momentary pause. "Q?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I just say I'm so glad we're finishing high school the same way we started?" Santana said.

"How's that?"

"With each other," she clarified. "We got a bit weird there in the middle. But I'm glad we're back to the way we were." Quinn smiled in response.

Santana craned her neck around to try and spot her parents. The red gowns and mortarboards that rendered every student identical meant they wouldn't spot her. She gave up and faced the front. Then saw Mike turning, trying to do the same thing, and he waved. Mike had missed being valedictorian by three points. But Alison Campbell, who was the valedictorian, didn't get into Harvard or Yale, thanks to an amazing meltdown during her SATs. Mike finished second in the class, was accepted into Tisch, NYU, Columbia and Harvard, so in everyone's eyes he finished on top.

She spotted Quinn, white sash around her shoulders indicating that she graduated on the honor roll. Mike had one, and Kurt and Rachel. Sam was sitting next to her. She saw Sam's little brother and sister running toward his row. Cute.

Puck was only just making his way to his seat, late as per usual. Santana smiled, pleased that Puck had managed to scrape through and graduate, considering he'd been in juvie for a stint at the start of the year. Then her eyes drifted to the very front of the crowd, where Brittany was sitting with members of faculty. Sort of in limbo, since she was the senior class president, but not able to sit with the others because she wasn't graduating. She frowned, but was shaken out of her thoughts by the announcement that the ceremony was starting.

It was about as long and boring as Santana expected. The announcer rattled off names and the colleges the names would be attending the following year, except for where there were no plans, when he said 'to be advised'. She stood when she was expected, walked across the stage and shook Principal Figgins hand as the announcer said, "Santana Lopez, Berklee College of Music." It sounded good, and she could hear her family and friends cheer. She cheered hard when the announcer said, "Noah Puckerman, to be advised."

Sure the guy was notoriously sleazy, but it was all a mask for him being a giant softie. Apart from Quinn, Puck was probably her best friend in the school. Or used to be, because in a few short moments they wouldn't be students any longer.

The ceremony ended and as they were announced as graduates, they all tossed their mortarboards in the air. Santana located her cap and was immediately hit with a hug from her mother and her father. Her uncle embraced her afterward, and her cousin Tony. She saw Quinn and Mrs Fabray in the aisle, and the Lopez's made their way over. Santana was hugged by a weepy Judy Fabray, and Quinn was descended upon by Santana's parents.

She spotted Brittany coming toward them. She didn't look happy, it was obvious that she hadn't enjoyed watching a graduation ceremony in which she wasn't able to graduate herself. Santana walked over to her. Brittany hugged her.

"Congratulations, San." She sounded genuine. Santana didn't really know what to say.

"Thanks. I promise I'll come back for your grad," she said. Brittany just shrugged. "Will I see you later for the party? Everyone from Glee is coming."

"I'll be there," she said. "I'm going to hug Quinn, but then I've got to get back to class." She wandered off. It was unsettling, like the blonde had lost some of her spark.

Her parents dragged her off to lunch at home, where more of her family were waiting. She was hugged and kissed and cried at by dozens of people. Abuela wasn't there, not that Santana expected her to be, but it still hurt a little. Her father announced that he had a surprise for her after lunch had finished, and disappeared. Everyone was grinning at her, and she was suddenly a little nervous. Tony pulled a blindfold on to her eyes and whispered that he'd make sure she wouldn't get hurt, pulled her to her feet and guided her.

She felt the sun on her face so she knew she was outside. Tony slipped the scarf off her face, and her jaw dropped to the floor. Her papi was leaning against a brand new car, holding out the keys for her.

"Are you serious!" she exclaimed.

"Of course I am, mija." Santana screamed and threw herself into her dad's arms, then her mothers. She and her mother were both crying, and her dad pushed her in to the driver's seat.

"It's a good, reliable car. I didn't want to worry about you driving around Boston. Take her for a spin," he said. "Go see if Quinn and her mama are home, ask them to come for dessert and coffee." She kissed her dad's cheek again.

"Thank you papi," she said. "You shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should have," he said. "Why do I work so hard if not to spoil the ones I love?" He winked at her. She put the car into gear and drove towards Quinn's place.

She pulled up and texted her. _Come outside. Don't look out the window, it'll ruin the surprise._

Quinn appeared, and she was as shocked as Santana had been.

"Holy crap," she said. "How amazing is this?"

"It's only the best thing ever," Santana said. "Dad surprised me at family lunch. Do you and your mom want to come for coffee and dessert? We have enough food to feed an army."

"Come in, we'll ask mom. I'll get some stuff, I may as well just stay at yours all afternoon now."

"Stay the night if you want," Santana said. "It's not like we have anything planned." They went inside. Judy decided that she would like to come, and went to refresh herself. Quinn and Santana headed to Quinn's room.

"Mom got me a present, too," Quinn said. "She unlocked my trust early."

"What!"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "We had the serious don't-blow-it-all conversation, but she said that she trusts me not to be stupid, and I'll need the money to get started at Yale anyway."

"How cool are our parents?" Santana said.

"Careful," came Judy's voice. "I'm sure the acceptable lines are 'my parents suck' or 'I hate my parents', you'll lose cool points." Quinn rolled her eyes and stuffed the last of her things in a bag.

"Whatever mom, if you want me to hate you…" she stuck her tongue out and kissed her on the cheek. "Ready?" They got into Santana's car, and went back to the Lopez house where the dishes from lunch had disappeared and been replaced with desserts. Santana's mother introduced Quinn and Judy to the room, and when she mentioned that Quinn had also just graduated and was going to Yale, the Lopez clan cheered and hugged her, like she was part of the family.

Quinn and Santana sat themselves on the back porch, watching the younger kids play. Her cousin Tony was with them, he was two years older than Santana. They had coffee and cake in front of them.

"So, San," he said. "Berklee is pretty cool. What even made you think about going there?"

"Uh, couple of the teachers at school," she said. "Mr Schuester and Shelby Corcoran." Tony almost spit out his coffee.

"Shelby Corcoran teaches at your school?"

"What? Yeah, she does. Consults, I guess? Not a big deal."

"We mustn't be talking about the same Shelby Corcoran," he said. "She was a Broadway superstar, ended up with some vocal nodules and had to give it all away."

"That's her," Quinn said. "She was a superstar?"

"She was the go-to leading lady of the nineties," Tony said.

"And you know this how?" Quinn asked.

"Please, sweetie, gays love the theater." Quinn raised an eyebrow. Santana had always known Tony was gay, but not all of the adults in the family did. They shared that secret, and the disdain of their abuela.

"So when I tell you she's tutoring me all summer, you'll basically shit yourself?" Santana said casually.

"Oh, Lord." He shook his head. "I'm insanely jealous right now."

"Hang around," Santana said. "She's dropping by this afternoon." Quinn laughed uproariously at the look on Tony's face.

"She's coming HERE?" he looked dumbfounded.

"Yeah, man," Santana said. "Just make sure you unbunch your panties before she gets here." He smirked, and then turned to Quinn.

"And Quinn, Yale. That's a hell of a school. What are you studying?" Quinn began talking, and Santana half listened as she watched her cousin Max pin his two sisters by the fence with a water gun, all three of them squealing like maniacs. She smiled to herself.


	8. Chapter 8

The family trickled out as Glee members began trickling in. There was more than enough food left over from lunch to handle the next wave of partygoers, but Santana's father was insisting on grilling burgers for them, even tofu burgers for Kurt and Rachel. Tony had decided he would hang around, saying it would be crazy if he gave up the opportunity to meet the one and only Shelby Corcoran.

All the guests were in good spirits, even Brittany, because it was almost summer break, Santana guessed. Finn, Puck, Mike and Sam were teaching Rory and Joe how to play football, while Artie and Tony were discussing their favorite film directors. Tony was a film school student, and Artie was starting to consider his options for colleges.

The girl were all in various states of undress, either laying in or around the pool in their swimmers and shorts. Shelby was talking with Emma and Mr Schuester, Beth toddling around between their chairs. Tony had managed to not make a fool of himself, by introducing himself and saying he was a massive fan of her Broadway work. Shelby had been flattered that someone remembered her work at all, and they'd chatted for a while.

The game of football wound on, with Tina and Brittany eventually replacing Puck, who helped grill with Santana's dad. They all bunched around the tables, gorging themselves, when Brittany made an announcement.

"I'm not doing senior year again," Brittany said. "I talked it over with my folks, and I'm just not an academic. I'm going to move to LA, live with my cousin, see if I can't get some dance work instead."

"Are you crazy?" Santana said. "Britt, you're one year shy."

"Are you sure?" Artie asked. "If you're worried about grades, we're all here to help, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Tina said. "I'll totally tutor you." Brittany shook her head.

"I really appreciate that, guys. But I wasn't even close to graduating this year. My dad was actually kind of upset that my grades were that bad and the school never mentioned it. Come to think of it, why wouldn't the school say anything?"

"I don't know," Mr Schuester said. "But Brittany, you realize how big a deal it is not to finish high school, right? You're so close."

"I was so, so close," Britt said. "But it didn't happen. I mean, I know I'm not as smart as some of you guys, but don't you think if I'd known it was _that_ bad I would have tried a little harder?" Santana started to feel a little guilty. She counted in her head endless times she'd convinced Britt to ditch her homework so they could hang out instead. She could have helped Britt study, at the very least.

"So, after talking to my parents, they agreed to let me try it out. I have a place to stay, and they said I could give it a year. If I don't have a decent job in a year, I promised to come home and sit for a GED," she said.

"And there's nothing any of us can say to change your mind?" Emma asked. Britt shook her head.

"I'm seeing Figgins tomorrow," she said. "And I promise guys, one year. If I don't have it together, I'll be back." The chatter resumed around the table, and Santana began to clear some of the rapidly emptying plates. She was just emptying the plates from her second trip in, when she turned around, almost smack into Brittany.

"Hey," she said. "You looked sad. Are you okay?"

"Britt," she said. "Why didn't you tell me you were failing? I mean, the amount of times I talked you into coming over when you should have been studying, I feel like this is my fault."

"How is it your fault?" Brittany asked. "I could have said no, I have a brain. And I didn't exactly take a lot of persuading, if you recall. Don't blame yourself for this Santana, it's not your fault."

"I feel like I should have helped. You should have had your chance to walk across that stage today."

"I know," Brittany said. "And trust me, my parents are absolutely livid that the school never notified them. I toned it down for Mr Schue, but my dad's not happy. Watching you guys all graduate today, that sucked. Because I should have been there, too. Don't get me wrong, I love you and Quinn, and everyone else, and I'm so proud of all of you, but we should have done that together. Doing it again, now, just feels all kinds of wrong."

"Well, for what it's worth, you're going to rock it in LA," Santana said. "But promise me you'll rethink the GED thing, even if you do make it."

"I promise," Britt said. She looked at Santana a little hesitantly. "Is it too soon for us to be hugging?"

"No, you douche bag," she said, giving Brittany a hug. "We'll still have email. And I'll look for you on MTV or whatever." Her arms fell into their old spot around Brittany's waist, and she felt the blonde drop her head onto her shoulder. It felt – comfortable. And safe. Britt still smelled like peaches and honey, and something else that was uniquely Brittany's smell. Brittany's hands smoothed down her back, and Santana was remembering how good they were together. She pulled her arms a little tighter and she felt Brittany relax, until she pulled away suddenly.

"This is much harder than I thought," Brittany said. "You're still… and we-"

"We're still untangling," Santana said. "And the fact that we fit together so well, that's just making it all the more difficult."

"We were awesome together, though, weren't we?" Brittany said.

"We were," Santana said. "Let's not fool ourselves, Britt. I still love you. And it's going to take way more than a couple of weeks to undo us."

"You realize I'm always going to love you, right?" Brittany said, softly. "You were the first person I ever loved. I don't think that can be undone, do you?"

"Probably not," Santana said. She slumped back against the counter. "Sometimes I wish we were different people. We could keep going."

"But if we were different people, we would never have been the way we were," Brittany replied.

"You're right. I guess I just want this to suck less already. I'll miss you. Because I already do, and even though we weren't really hanging out, you were still here. And now you won't be. Not even close. We're going to be on opposite sides of the country."

"Promise me that you and Q will take care of each other?"

"I promise." Brittany kissed her on the cheek, squeezed her hand and left the kitchen. Santana immediately hated herself for the tears that sprang to her eyes. She leaned on the counter with both hands, away from the door. She and Brittany had been broken up for a while, but this was the most it had hurt. Singing drifted in from outside – Puck and Sam were playing guitars while the others were singing. Santana closed her eyes and willed the tears to go away as the voices slipped in the window. She didn't hear the back door open and close.

"Hey," Quinn said softly. "You okay?"

"I don't know," Santana said, wiping at her face without turning around. She felt Quinn's hand on her shoulder and half-turned. Quinn pressed a napkin into her hand.

"Britt didn't look entirely cheerful either, but she asked me to come and check on you. Did you fight?"

"No," Santana said. "We didn't. But I think we might have just said goodbye." Quinn just hugged her, didn't press with any further questions. She knew Santana wasn't much of a talker, especially when it came to girls, so she just held her.

"Sucks," Santana mumbled. "Because I know we're over, but I still love her."

"That does suck."

"Do you still love Finn?"

"I'm always going to love Finn. And Puck. They're both parts of me that I can't get rid of. But that doesn't mean love won't find me again. And it'll find you, too, San. Promise." Quinn squeezed her hands reassuringly.

"Britt wants us to take care of each other," Santana said.

"That was always in the plan," Quinn said. "You and me, we're a good team."

"We always have been," Santana agreed. "Now, want to help me bring dessert out? The others are probably wondering where we are."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I think I will be," Santana said. "Just had to take a moment." She fished some plates from the cupboard and handed them to Quinn. She pulled a massive cheesecake from the refrigerator and followed her outside, where their friends were still singing, oblivious to the endings of things around them.


	9. Chapter 9

The summer heat was relentless. Santana's first day at Shelby's house was sweltering, and when she finally got inside, she rejoiced that the woman was smart enough to have air conditioning.

"Come in," Shelby said. "Do you want some water? Actually, I recommend water. You'll need to drink a lot of it."

"Sure," Santana said. Beth was playing with some blocks on the floor, stacking them in towers and clapping as they tumbled to the ground before repeating the process. Shelby brought two large bottles of water over toward her piano. Santana put her bag down on the kitchen table and joined her.

"So," Shelby said. "Berklee. Do you have an information pack yet?"

"They should be arriving next week," Santana said. "I don't really know what to work on until it gets here."

"I do," Shelby said. "We'll do some vocal warm ups so I can see just how big your range is. Then we'll talk some theory, so I can get you used to the idea of sheet music beyond what you've learned in Glee. Then we'll talk song choices that suit your voice and your range."

"Look at you getting your schoolteacher on," Santana said. "By the way, I still can't thank you enough for this."

"You fascinate me a little," Shelby admitted. "Sure, Rachel and Kurt have known what they wanted to do forever. Been working at it their whole lives. Even Mercedes grew up singing in her church choir. Not you, though."

"I guess not."

"The way Mr Schue tells it, you showed up during the early days as a plant. Sue. But you could hold your own, sing a little. And then Will said it was Gaga week. You finally had the confidence to prove that you weren't just a background singer. You were a star. And that means you've only really been singing for less than three years."

"That's true," Santana said. "I never even thought of myself as being as good as Mercedes or Rachel for so long."

"But you are," Shelby said. "Final confirmation came when you were a Trouble Tone."

"That Adele mashup was one of my favorite numbers I ever did," Santana said. "New Directions included."

"That was a big week for you."

"That was the week Finn outed me as gay and I smacked him in the face," Santana confirmed. "And yes, I hit him. I'd probably do it again. I don't know why he let me off the hook for that, but he did."

"Because he felt bad that he'd turned your personal life into gossip fodder and knew he deserved it," Shelby said. "Anyway. I'm helping you because I think you've got that exciting combination of natural talent and stage presence. If you work your ass off this summer Berklee will be a piece of cake."

"Then let's do it."

"Sure," Shelby said. She played the notes of a vocal warm up and demonstrated it. Santana replicated it, in as many keys as she could. They did the same thing with a few different exercises, and then moved to the kitchen table. Beth had been watching with great fascination, and Shelby moved her to her high chair, giving her some paper and crayons to draw with.

"How much do you know about music in general?" Shelby asked.

"I never took music," Santana said. "I know what the notes are, but that's about it."

"Then we'll start from the start and talk key signatures and time signatures." Shelby was a good teacher. She had plenty of music on hand to demonstrate the difference in time and key to Santana. They took a break to drink more water, and so that Shelby could give Beth some raisins and some juice. Beth happily scribbled on sheets of paper the entire morning, except for when they were singing – then she would stop and listen, and when they were finished, she'd clap.

"Why thank you, Beth," Santana said. "You're just about the greatest audience ever." Shelby smiled.

"So, we've gone over some of the more common time and key signatures," Shelby said. "You okay with it so far?"

"I think so," Santana said. "You're pretty good at this teaching stuff. Why don't you teach at McKinley? The idiot they got to replace Ryerson is insane."

"I thought about it, but I have Beth," Shelby said. "Maybe down the track I'll do some part time tutoring or something."

"You'd rock it," Santana said.

"Careful now, we're only on day one," Shelby laughed. "My name might be a curse word to you by the end of the summer. Now, let's talk about style. I know you've got bags of it, but what kind of music are you going to concentrate on at Berklee."

"I don't really know," Santana said. "I mean, someone like Rachel, she's known she was destined for musical theater. I don't have that kind of clarity just yet, I really love singing."

"You're difficult to peg," Shelby admitted. "Will sent me some of your rehearsal tapes. You can do just about anything. So I have homework for you."

"And what's that?"

"Listen to as much different music as you possibly can."

"That's homework?" Santana said. "Best homework I ever got."

"But really listen to it," Shelby said. "Pay attention to keys and time signatures, and pay attention to the way listening to the music makes you feel. If you feel nothing for a certain songwriter, or style, don't sing it."

"So, big fat no on the country music then?" Santana joked. "I will."

"Don't count out the older stuff," Shelby warned. "Good music doesn't age."

"I said that to a guy once," Santana said. "I told him Carole King was going to be great forever for exactly the same reason."

"Well, at least you know what I'm talking about. I want you to pick a song every week to test out how it fits stylistically. Even if you realize it sucks. Because we can examine why it doesn't work, and move on," Shelby explained. "Cool?"

"Cool," Santana said. It was just before one.

"I think we can call it a day," Shelby said. "Do you have anything else planned this summer?"

"A combination of packing, and laying by the pool with Q," Santana said.

"Don't work too hard at that," Shelby joked. "Actually, do you have Quinn's number? I'm supposed to arrange for her and Puck to watch Beth on Thursday mornings. I thought I had it."

"Sure," Santana said. "She had a great time with you guys at the zoo. It means a lot to her that you've given her another chance."

"I couldn't not," Shelby said. "I just couldn't be another thing in that girl's life that she would end up hating."

"That means more to her than you realize," Santana said. "Quinn's not as together as people like to think she is. And she'd kill me if she knew I said it, but she does like you, Shelby. She found it really hard to give Beth up, because it reminded her too much of her dad giving up on her. Which are two completely different issues."

"I figured it was something like that. I never met her dad. What's he like?"

"An asshole of the grandest kind," Santana said. "And that's being diplomatic. Rigid. Pretentious. Judgmental. Hypocritical. Judy's better off without him."

"Damn," Shelby said. "He doesn't sound like someone I want to meet. Can I ask you to keep what we talk about just between us?"

"Absolutely," Santana said. "You know you're pretty cool."

"What, for a teacher?"

"No, in general," Santana said. "My cousin Tony almost died when he heard you were tutoring me this summer."

"He was lovely," Shelby said. "I won't lie, it didn't hurt my ego one bit to have him fawning over me like that." Santana checked her watch.

"Alright," she said. "Thanks for today. I'll go listen to a crapload of music and see you tomorrow."

"Sure thing. Don't get too sunburned. It dehydrates you and sucks for your voice," Shelby replied. Santana waved bye to Beth and let herself out. If it had been a million degrees before, it was five million now. She dialed Quinn.

"Q. What's up?"

"Nothing," came the sun-drowsed response. "It's super hot. Come and get your tan on if you like."

"See you in a bit," Santana said. She picked up some cold iced tea from the new place in town that Quinn loved, and swung past her own house to change and grab a few things. She drove to Quinn's and walked straight around to the back of the house. Quinn was facedown on a towel by the pool, her head stuck into a tiny patch of shade from a tree overhanging the back fence. Her bikini top was untied and she looked very still.

"Q," she said. "I brought iced tea." Quinn's arms fumbled for the string tie on her swimwear. She was not succeeding in tying it up, so Santana set the tea down and leaned over to tie it for her. Then she handed one of the bottles of tea to Quinn.

"You're a life saver," Quinn said. "Thanks. How was summer school?"

"Good," Santana said. "Shelby's kind of rad. She knows her shit when it comes to music. She's going to call you later about taking Beth on Thursdays."

"What's with the iPod dock?" Quinn asked.

"Oh. Hope you don't mind, I'm under strict instructions to listen to as much music as possible this summer," Santana said. "Trying to figure out what style I suit."

"You suit anything," Quinn said.

"Apparently I'll need to find one I dig more than the others," Santana said. "I'll keep it low." Quinn waved her hand not to worry.

"Music is a good idea," Quinn said. "But for the record, I don't think you've ever sung anything as good as Breathe Me was. Maybe you should check some more of that chick's stuff out."

"Maybe," Santana said. "Now scoot over, I wanna get in on that shade action you have." She stripped down to her own bikini and arranged her towel so her head was in the shade next to Quinn's. The music was playing softly, Lauryn Hill, and the sun was baking them both. Quinn shifted and Santana could see from the side view she had of Quinn that she'd untied her top again, obviously not wanting lines. Santana shrugged and did the same thing. Then she closed her eyes and allowed the sun to warm her, praying she wouldn't fall asleep and burn to a crisp.

She did though, and she didn't wake up until she realized Quinn was nudging her in the side.

"San. San," she said. "If you don't roll over or jump in the pool, you're gonna burn." She made a noise in response that indicated that she'd heard. She heard Quinn dive into the pool and rolled over. Quinn's top was lying on her towel, which meant that she was topless. In the pool.

"Quinn are you topless?"

"Yeah," she said. "No-one can see in here. Do you want me to put it back on?"

"Just surprised," Santana said. "Since when do you sunbake topless?"

"Since a couple of years ago," Quinn said. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll put it back on, San."

"You're fine," Santana replied. She was more surprised than anything else. Quinn had been kind of a prude for as long as Santana could remember. She couldn't help but notice Quinn's body as she slid out of the pool and rearranged herself on the towel. She wasn't perving, because it was _Quinn_, not some random girl. But Quinn had a hot body, even after having a kid. She'd be an idiot not to notice that. She tied her top and sat up. She drank the rest of her iced tea, forgetting that by now it would be warm. Then she flipped on to her back and let the music draw her toward dozing off again.


	10. Chapter 10

Santana's summer went pretty much like the first day. She'd get up and have breakfast with her parents, drive to Shelby's for tutoring. They'd knock off around lunch time and she'd drive to Quinn's, where they would waste the afternoon either sunbaking, watching movies, or shopping for college.

Shelby had gone through the student package for Berklee with Santana. She'd figured that they were each going to have to perform three songs that reflected the kind of music they were most passionate about. The lessons with Shelby had been very valuable. Santana could now read music pretty well, and she could identify the key and time signature of a song in a few seconds. They'd spent hours discussing music and what kinds of songs Santana felt would be good choices for her first week at Berklee.

"I know it's going to sound like I'm completely wanky," Santana said, "But even though I can sing all the Adele's and whatnot, I don't know if it's what I feel most connected to."

"Not wanky," Shelby said. "And I can't believe I just used the word wanky. I'm glad Beth wasn't here to hear that." It was a Thursday and Puck and Quinn had taken Beth to the park. "So what do you think is a better choice?"

"I'm still trying to define it I think," Santana said. "I mean, I know what songs have meant the most to me as I've sung them."

"So sing me one," Shelby said. "Tomorrow. Sing me a song that means something to you." Puck opened the door at that precise moment, with the key Shelby had made him. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and Quinn followed him in with Beth on her hip. Santana smiled broadly at the look on her friend's face. She really was happy just being a part of Beth's life, no matter how small. Shelby got up to hug and kiss her daughter.

"Sup, San?" Puck said. "Getting your sing on?"

"Getting our discussion and theory on," Santana said. "Did you guys have fun at the park?"

"Tell mama what you saw," Quinn said, handing Beth to Shelby.

"Ducky," Beth said, and she quacked.

"You saw some duckies?" Shelby asked. "Did you feed them some bread?"

"Sure did," Puck said. "We might have even chased some seagulls around."

They made some small talk before leaving Beth and Shelby together. When they got to the street Santana saw Puck's car, but not Quinn's.

"How are you getting home?" Santana asked. "Do you need a ride?"

"Puck brought me," Quinn said. "But if you're not doing anything, do you want to hit up the mall?"

"Puck," Santana said, "Want to come to the mall with us?"

"No, not even a little," he said. "Have fun, ladies." Quinn and Santana got in the car and drove to the mall. They wandered through the lower level to the alfresco dining area. They sat at an outdoor table and ate Caesar salads in the sunshine.

"Puck seems to like Beth a lot," Santana said. "He's got good dad genes, god knows where from."

"Right?" Quinn said. "I know a lot of it comes from wanting to be a better dad than his dad was. But he's great with Beth."

"What's Puck going to do now that he's graduated?" Santana asked. "Does he even have a plan?"

"Puck has a secret," Quinn said. "He told me. He's going to be just fine."

"He has a secret?" Santana said. "Come on, Q. Spill. I won't say anything, and after you Puck is my best friend."

"It's his news, San. Let him tell you," Quinn responded. "He's so excited, I don't want to take it away from him."

"Fair enough," Santana mumbled. "So what are we shopping for today?"

"Nothing really," Quinn said. "Today feels like a wander day. Without a mission. Are you almost ready for Berklee?"

"Yes and no," Santana said. "I think I've bought everything that I need to take with me, but I haven't actually sat down and had a look at it all. You?"

"Same," Quinn said. "I still sometimes have to remind myself that I'm going to Yale in less than a month. You know, I'll miss you."

"Sorry?"

"I'll miss you, San. This summer has been a lot of fun. And now we're both going to somewhere where we have nobody we know. I'll miss having you by my side."

"Me too, Q," Santana said. "But we won't let ourselves get pulled apart this time. I promise."

"And how are things with Shelby?"

"Really good," Santana said. "I feel like I'm ready for it now. I owe her a lot, really. I've been trying to come up with a way to show her my appreciation. But I'm coming up blank."

"What, like a present?"

"Yeah," Santana said. "She made it very clear to me she didn't want to be paid, but that doesn't mean I can't get her something."

"You know," Quinn said, "There's one thing I've noticed about her place."

"What's that?"

"She has no reminders in the apartment of her Broadway career. Nothing," Quinn said.

"You're a genius," Santana said. "I have the perfect gift. I just need to call my cousin Tony." She described her plan to Quinn.

"That is a good idea," Quinn said. "You might just have enough time to pull it off, too." They swung into a coffee place and picked up brews to go. "Coming back to mine?"

"I've gotta work on a song for tomorrow," Santana said. "Try and find a song that _means_ something to me."

"Come around later," Quinn said. "It's been ages since we've had a girls night in. Let's invite them all and crash on the floor, eat pizza and get one last girly moment in before we go our separate ways."

"That sounds kind of awesome," Santana said. "Bout eight o'clock, I'll be there." They walked back to the car and Santana suggested they swing past Brittany's to invite her over. She hopped out of the car while Quinn called her mom to warn her.

"Hey, Mrs Pierce," Santana said. "How are you?" She looked a little uncomfortable.

"Pretty good, Santana," Brittany's mother said. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Britt here? Q and I are going to host one last massive sleepover before we leave for college," she said, peering into the house. It was quiet, not even the steady thump of Brittany's R&B drifting down the stairs.

"Uh, maybe you should come in," she replied. "This is going to be hard."

"What's going on?" Santana perched on the stairs, and Mrs Pierce sat next to her.

"Sweetie, Britt left last week. She's in California," she said. Santana's jaw dropped. She could not believe what she was hearing. "She didn't want to make a big deal about leaving, she said it was too hard."

"Are you joking?" Santana said. "Because this is really not funny, Caroline." The older woman just put an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, honey. But it's what Britt wanted. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't hear it." She got up and took two envelopes from the hall table. She handed one to Santana. "She left this for you." It was thick and heavy.

Santana just looked at it blankly, staring at the loopy penmanship that had scrawled hundreds of letters to her. "She's gone."

"Yep," Mrs Pierce said. "If you see Quinn, this one's for her. And just so you know, she took the framed picture of you three in your Cheerios uniforms with her. I know that you two didn't exactly end the year the way you wanted to, but that doesn't mean she didn't value what you guys had."

"Thanks, Mrs P," she said. "Britt and I were okay, in the end. Thanks for the letters."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Ummm… Yeah. I will, but I'm just surprised I guess." She allowed Mrs Pierce to grab her in a side hug before she walked back to her car in a daze. She walked around to the passenger side and opened Quinn's door.

"Can you drive?" Santana said. "I can't – please, just drive?" Quinn looked alarmed and got out of the car.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Santana couldn't manage to answer, she just sat in the seat and attempted to buckle her seatbelt.

"Drive," she whispered. She couldn't tell if she was angry or upset or both. Quinn got in the car and drove them toward her house – she knew it was quiet because her mother wasn't home.

"What's going on?" Quinn said. "Talk to me, San, you're freaking me out."

"Britt's gone."

"Gone where?"

"California," Santana said. "She moved last week and didn't tell anyone, not you, not me, not anyone."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she said. "I can't believe she did that to m- us."

"It's okay," Quinn said. "She did it to you more than anyone."

"Her mom gave me these," she said, holding out the envelopes. "One for each of us. I don't wanna read it. Screw her." She started buzzing the window down, intending to throw the letter out. Quinn snatched them from her.

"You don't want to do that, San," Quinn said. "Trust me, you don't."

"Yes I do," Santana said. "She might not have been my girlfriend any more, but she was still our friend, Q, and she bailed cross-country without so much as a text." Quinn frowned.

"Yeah," she said. "That was kind of assy. But I at least want to hear what she has to say for herself." They got back to Quinn's and Quinn handed Santana her letter.

"I'll leave you alone for this," she said. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Santana somehow walked herself into the den and sat down. She put the envelope on the coffee table and stared at it some more. She desperately wanted to read it, or rip it up, she couldn't tell which. In the end, curiosity won, and she opened it. Some photographs spilled out.

_Dear San_

_I know this isn't how things should have ended with us. With any of us. I hated bailing on you all like this, and I'm sorry. I just don't think I could have managed if I had to actually say goodbye to you, for real. Quinn, too. But we all know it was always going to be different for us._

_I know I wasn't the brightest girl in school. When I met you freshman year I was this naïve, vague girl who believed everything I was told by everyone. I know what people thought of me. But you never, ever saw me the way they did. And you took it on yourself to protect me, San. I never did thank you for that._

_I know that as a couple, we were over. But we were always so much more than that. You were, and always will be, the very best friend that I ever had. I got front row seats to the entire, beautiful Santana Lopez show. And it was amazing. My best friend was the hottest, most talented girl in school. _

_Do you really know how proud of you I am? The day you finally told your parents that you were in love with me, and wanted the world to know we were together, I felt like I was going to burst. Not because you'd told them that you loved me – because I never doubted that, ever. But that you were brave enough to risk everything to be honest about who you were. You started walking the school halls taller. Didn't let anyone bring you down. You, by doing that, probably helped more students than my entire presidency._

_And then, of course… I loved you. Still do, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. We were amazing together San. When I was with you, my heart was so full sometimes I wondered if people could see it just by looking at me. You always made me feel like the most important person in the room. Just your hand on my back, or a look during Cheerios… It was awesome that I got to call you my girlfriend._

_It just sucks that our paths are totally veering away from each other. I would really have loved to have seen where we ended up. And it's neither of our faults, I want you to know that. Just know that Boston, Lima, California, nothing can change what we were to each other. You'll always be the first girl I ever loved. You'll always be the best friend I ever had. Just promise me, when the world notices how fabulous you are and you become a superstar – and I know you will – that you won't forget about the four years of your life when we were each other's everything. _

_I love you, San. _

_Britt._

Santana wiped tears from her eyes. She wasn't sobbing, just crying. There were splotches on the pages from where Britt had obviously been crying. She tucked the letter back in the envelope, and after taking a moment to compose herself, she went to find Quinn.

Quinn was reading her own letter in the kitchen. It wasn't long.

_Quinn_

_I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I suck at leaving things behind that I love, and you and San definitely qualify. I've left San a letter to try and explain exactly what's been going through my head these days. I feel like I can't help her through whatever she's feeling, because it's my fault, you know? _

_Can you promise me that you'll take care of her? You and I both know she's not as tough as she looks. And if I can't take care of her myself, I want you to do it, because you get her. You know what she's thinking. I'll miss you, Q. Email me when you get to Yale._

_Britt._

Quinn just regarded her letter with a raised eyebrow. She wondered exactly what was in Santana's letter that it required a separate note telling her to take care of the girl. She saw Santana coming down the hall, and folded it over.

"You okay?" she asked Santana. Santana shrugged a little.

"I guess," Santana said. "Can we raincheck the sleepover? I'm not really feeling it tonight, and I've still gotta pick a song for tomorrow."

"Of course," Quinn said. "Call me if you wanna hang over the weekend."

"Will do," Santana said. She hugged her quickly and drove home. Around the corner from her house, a song started playing through her stereo. Her iPod had shuffled to the perfect song for her lesson tomorrow. She immediately went home and found a backing track for it. She paid for it and set to work.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hi everyone, I know I was well away again... Life just erupted, you know? Two of my friends were in (separate) near-fatal accidents... So my creative juices were not flowing for quite a while there. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, I kind of forgot where I was going with it after a while. I may get another one up tonight, I don't know. Thanks to everyone who kept reading & reviewing. _

* * *

Santana was a little off her game for the next morning's lesson. She still wasn't handling the fact that Brittany had moved to California very well. Shelby stopped talking about chromatics and changed the subject.

"You're elsewhere," she said. "What's up?"

"Sorry," Santana said. "I'll pay attention."

"I'm not mad," Shelby said. "But if you need to talk about something… I'd like to think we're friends."

"We are," Santana said. "I don't talk about myself that much. Not seriously anyway."

"But something is distracting you." Santana got up and paced the small area between the kitchen table and the living room.

"Yeah," she said. Her hands were pushed deep into the pockets of her denim shorts. "Britt moved to California a week ago. She didn't tell any of us, just packed up and left. Her mom gave me a letter."

"She just up and moved?" Shelby asked.

"And I know we were broken up," Santana said, "But I'm still mad at her. I thought I was more than a letter after the fact, you know?"

"Was it a messy breakup?"

"Not messy bad. But it was complicated. At the barbecue at my house I thought we might have figured out that we could be friends again. But then she just bails on us."

"That's definitely out of the ordinary. Did she tell you why in the letter?"

"She did, but it still hurts." She sighed. "Did you ever break up with someone even though you still loved each other? Coz this is hard. I keep thinking I'm over it, but it sneaks up on me."

"Of course it's hard. You have this feeling like you know you need to be apart, but you still want to chase them down and hold them one last time."

"Exactly." She drummed her fingernails on the tabletop. "Can I sing you the song I prepared? I think it'll help me concentrate."

"Sure." Shelby sat back as Santana cued up the backing track on her iPod. Santana stood before the fireplace and began to sing.

"So far away, doesn't anybody stay in one place any more? It would be so fine to see your face at my door. Doesn't help to know you're just time away," she sang. She made it through the song and shut off the iPod. She sat at the table with Shelby.

"I think I see what you mean," Shelby said. "You really do perform best when you feel an emotional connection to music. And a lot of that music is sort of golden era folk rock. I mean Adele is fabulous, but you have this connection to songwriters like Stevie Nicks and Carole King. You've always been in the pocket with that music."

"I think that's what I need to rely on at Berklee. Picking stuff that resonates with me."

"That's a hell of a song," Shelby said. "I have to say, Carole King's a favorite of mine. I could give you a bunch of artists to check out that are like that."

"I'd like that," Santana said.

"We've only got a week left of these lessons," Shelby said. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Santana admitted. "It'd be crazy for me to not be nervous, I'm literally moving across country on my own."

"Well, you don't need to worry about this stuff. You've done very well with it all, I'm impressed."

"Well, I've said it before, you rock as a teacher." She paused. "I think I can concentrate on what you were saying before now." She pulled the paper back toward her and reread it. Shelby just watched as she scribbled on the sheet, Beth gurgling in the background.

Once the lesson was finished, Santana went back to her house. She had been packing and repacking her stuff for days. Obviously, her room at home was still going to be her room, but she couldn't really settle on what she wanted to take with her. She was focused on getting everything into her car, saving her parents from having to rent a trailer or bring one of their cars along.

She also had the luxury of being able to buy furniture and everything once she got there, and she and her father had set a reasonable limit on a budget for buying it all. She'd already hit up Ikea, because she needed some of it urgently, and bookmarked everything she liked. The bigger concern was going to be building it, and after her father had watched her struggle to tape together cardboard moving boxes, he'd decided to pay someone to do it for her. Santana smiled, remembering that conversation.

She was getting more and more nervous the closer Berklee became. She had one week of Shelby's tutoring left, then it was just ten days until she moved and after that, a week until she started classes.

"What are you thinking about?" came a voice from the doorway. It was Quinn, Santana had no idea she was even standing there.

"Berklee."

"Are you having the trans-coastal freakout yet?" she asked, sitting on the bed. "I did. I cried. I'm a little worried about leaving my mother here on her own."

"It's just… it's come up so fast, you know?" she flopped backward on to the bed. Quinn lay down next to her.

"I know. I feel like in an instant we're going to be all alone. You're going to be my closest family, San, and you're two hours away."

"I know, right?" She sat up. "Wanna grab some dinner later?"

"Sure you're not busy packing?"

"I've done it like five times," Santana shrugged. "And I'm sure I'll do it five more."

"I'll pick you up, we can drive to Columbus. Let's stay there the night, we'll hit the markets in the morning."

"Sounds good." Quinn left just as quietly as she arrived. Santana stayed on her bed. She decided to give up on the packing for a while and just lay there, catching the afternoon sun.


	12. Chapter 12

Santana and Quinn spent the drive to Columbus singing along to Florence and The Machine, and pulled into the hotel carpark just as the sun began to go down. Quinn walked up to the counter.

"Hi," she said. "Can we book a room for the night? Two singles." The man behind the counter tapped on his keyboard for a moment.

"Sorry, love," he said. "I don't have any available. I've only got queens and suites."

"Q," Santana said. "Just get a queen room, it won't be the first time we've shared a bed."

"Fine," Quinn said. "We'll take a queen room, something with a pretty view in the morning if you can swing it." The guy smiled unintentionally, Quinn's charms working their magic.

"Sure can," he said. "610. Credit card?" Quinn slid it across the counter and he registered the details. "Check out is eleven. Enjoy your stay."

They made their way up to the room and quickly changed for dinner. Quinn said she had booked a place already, and it was within walking distance. It was still quite warm, so they enjoyed a leisurely walk a few blocks away. The meal was delicious and the restaurant was warm and bustling. They declined the dessert menu and instead stopped at a Baskin Robbins instead and wandered around until the ice-cream had rendered the bottom of their cones soggy.

They walked back to the hotel and changed for bed. Quinn came out of the bathroom to find Santana trying to braid her hair back so she could sleep. She took over, finishing quickly.

"Thanks Q," Santana said. "Dinner was a blast. I'm glad we drove up here, like a last hurrah or whatever."

"Me too," Quinn said. Santana's phone vibrated.

"It's Tony. He just dropped Shelby's gift off at my place."

"Cool," Quinn said. "What time are we planning on waking up?"

"Eightish?" Santana ventured. "Early enough to still eat breakfast, I guess." They got into the bed together.

"Remember when we used to have sleepovers every weekend?" Quinn said. "In sixth grade we practically lived with each other."

"I remember," Santana said. "Your mom made us waffles on Saturdays."

"And your mom would make us chicken tacos on Sunday nights," Quinn said. "I still remember how freakin delicious they are. I think it's the homemade tortillas."

"She taught me how," Santana said. "Some nights she gets all serious about teaching me how to cook so I don't subside on takeout."

"I'm so glad Yale has a decent dining hall," Quinn said. "Plus there's two Starbucks on campus. " There was a lengthy pause.

"Hey Quinn?" Santana whispered.

"Yeah."

"You a little bit scared?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Me, too." Quinn squeezed her hand and they fell asleep.

The next morning, they ate average yogurt and muesli from the hotel buffet before checking out and wandering through the markets. They both picked up a few things for their imminent new homes, and drove home after eating much more satisfying burgers and fries. Quinn dropped Santana off at home, and Santana went in to find her mother cooking.

"Hey mama," she said, kissing her on the cheek. "What are you cooking?"

"Your papi asked for chili," she said. "Tony left a package for you, it's in your room."

"Yeah, thanks. It's a gift for Shelby. You know, for the tutoring."

"Did you and Quinn have a good time in Columbus?"

"Yeah," Santana replied. She got a bottle of water from the fridge and sat at the bench while her mother cooked. "I'm gonna miss her."

"I know, sweetie. But you girls are finally friends again, like you used to be. Though I expected to see Brittany with you guys a bit more." She paused. "Caroline called me to make sure you were okay. She said you took the news of Brittany moving to California pretty hard."

"It's not how I wanted that my life to end," Santana said. "I'm okay now, but I was so mad that even though we weren't, you know – together, she just bailed like that."

"For what it's worth, San, Caroline said she was finding it hard to be in Lima and not be with you. Maybe it got too hard. Not saying it was the right thing to do, but…"

"Maybe," Santana said. "I might give it a while, but I'll email and make sure she's OK. Or maybe I'll get Quinn to do it first."

"A lot of change," her mother mused. She eyed her daughter knowingly. "You'll be fine, San. You're a fighter." Santana got up and kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Only because you were first," she said. "I'll be upstairs attempting to pack again. I'm convinced I can make it fit in the two cars without a trailer."

"Okay baby. Dinner will be a while yet."

Over the next few days, Santana managed to pack with the help of her mother. It was late Thursday afternoon, and she'd just put tape on the last box. The room looked a lot more bare now, devoid of all her knick knacks and photos. She had an open suitcase on her bare desk, for the things she'd be needing over the next five days. She heard a knock on her doorframe and turned around.

"Puck?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to visit you one last time before you take off to Boston," he said. He sat on the edge of her bed. "I mean, we are friends, so it's not that weird."

"I'm kinda glad you're here," Santana said. "I've missed you this summer."

"Yeah, well you were getting your singing class on," he said. "Which was cool by the way. Berklee. Big deal."

"Thanks. Anyway, Quinn says that you had some big exciting plan for next year. Fill me in." Puck smiled.

"It's pretty cool," he said. "It only became official maybe two weeks ago. I'm going back to McKinley." He enjoyed the look of confusion on Santana's face.

"What?"

"Bieste winning the championship brought in a lot of attention from footballers in the area," Puck said. "There are a lot of transfers hoping to make the team. I'm the assistant coach and recruiter of McKinely High's football program," he said. "She really put her ass on the line. I have to go to night school and get an administration certificate or something, but I'm cool with that." Santana hugged him.

"That's really cool, Puck," she said. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm pretty excited. Look at us both. Moving on like grown ups and whatever. Who'd have thought?"

"Right?" She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll miss you. Seriously."

"And I'll miss you. Nobody else has the kind of sass that'll keep me in line like you do." He hugged her again. "Have fun in Boston. Kick it's ass, and if you get in any trouble, and you don't know who to call, my number's still the same."

"You're my favorite tough-guy," she said. "And I appreciate it. Work hard, Puck. Be good."

"I'm planning on it," he said. "Anyway, I gotta pick up my brother. Take care of yourself."

"You too." He left, and Santana sat back down on her bed. Puck, all serious and whatever, was quite unusual, but she liked it. It was real now, all of them moving on. Puck coaching football with Bieste. Quinn at Yale. Rachel and Kurt at NYADA. Mike at Tisch. Britt in LA. And her in Berklee. She smiled and closed the suitcase.

The next morning, Santana showed up for her final tutoring class with Shelby. She had her gift with her, and presented it to Shelby as soon as she opened the door.

"What's this, Santana?"

"It's a gift," she said. "Because you've wasted half your day, every day this summer teaching me about music and performing. And you didn't have to, so I wanted to get you something to show how much I appreciate it," she said. "Without you, I would not have been ready for Berklee. I owe you a lot, Shelby, so thank you." Shelby hugged her.

"You know you didn't have to do that," she said. "But thanks." She unwrapped it, finding a large framed poster from her run on Broadway, playing Maureen in Rent. She placed a hand on the glass. "Wow. This is – wow."

"I noticed you didn't have any mementos of your Broadway career here," she said. "And from what I hear, you were pretty kick ass back in the day."

"I got rid of it all," Sheby said. "After I moved out of New York. But this is… for lack of a more appropriate word… awesome."

"Glad you like it," Santana said. "Now, do me a favor. I want to sing a song with you, and I know you know it, because you have the DVD on your shelf."

"What song?"

"When You Believe from The Prince of Egypt," Santana said. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"I'd love to," Shelby said. She picked Beth up and put her in her high chair, and moved toward the piano. Santana smiled. After the lesson concluded, Shelby walked Santana to the door. She hugged her tightly.

"You are amazing, Santana, and you're ready for this," she said. "I'm proud of the work you've done here."

"Thanks for everything, Shelby," she said. "I'll make sure I email you and keep you updated."

"That'd be nice," Shelby said. "And if you're back in Lima over holidays, come say hi. Beth would love to see you, too."

"I'd like that," she said. She kissed Beth's pudgy cheek. "I'll catch you around, then."

"Good luck, Santana," Shelby said. "Not that you'll need it."


	13. Chapter 13

Santana's last few days in Lima were a blur. Her parents made her double check and triple check everything she'd packed, called the landlord of her building to make sure it was cleaned and fumigated before she arrived, and also the person her father had organized to help with her furniture once it arrived. She managed to make one last brunch date with Quinn the day before she left.

They escaped to the Dalton side of town, and tried some organic place that Kurt had talked about once. The food was average at best, but the coffee was good enough that they hung around for an extra cup.

"So when exactly do you leave for Yale?" Santana asked.

"Day after tomorrow," Quinn said. "It's finally here."

"I know," Santana said. "My parents are coming to help me set up the apartment, but they're leaving Monday." She noticed Quinn was tearing up. "What's this?"

"I'm just going to miss you… asshole," she said. "You're my best friend. Just because you have a heart of stone..."

"I'm going to miss you too, Q," Santana said, pulling her into a hug. "But we'll text and call all the time. And once I get the place all pretty I'll do a video tour for you. And who knows, 2 hours isn't that far away, I'm sure we can visit each other."

"I know," Quinn said. "You know me, always a crier. Text me when you get there?"

"Of course. You, too."

"Sure." They got up and paid the bill again and walked to where they had parked their cars side by side. "This is it." Santana just pulled her into a long hug.

"Love you, Q. Kick ass at Yale."

"And you better slay them all at Berklee." Santana kissed Quinn on the cheek and got into her car. She turned the ignition on and waved as she pulled away from Quinn for the last time in Lima.

Santana and her parents were driving to Boston over the next two days, since it was so far. Her father had both cars packed that afternoon, and they had a quiet family dinner together. Her mother teared up a few times, and as a result so did Santana, but it was a perfect last night in Lima. She helped her mother with the dishes and after watching most of a movie she didn't really pay attention to, she kissed and hugged them both before bed.

She lay awake for a long time, wondering how she would go falling asleep in apartment all on her own. How she would go cooking and cleaning for herself for the first time. Whether she'd make any friends as good as the ones she was leaving behind. She worried herself to the point of no return. Her phone vibrated. Quinn.

_You're awake._ Santana didn't know how she knew that.

_Stalker._

_You can't sleep because you just realized you're all on your own in a few days._

_STALKER._

_Hahaha. I only know because I am, too._

_I think I'm psyching myself out. I don't think I can do it._

_But I know you can. And I'm going to Yale, so I'm smart._

_LOL. Just thinking hard. But we're leaving first thing after breakfast so I have to at least try to sleep._

_Just remember – you can do this. You're amazing._

_Thanks Q. You should maybe text me that every once in awhile._

_Noted. Goodnight._

_You too. BTW, you're amazing yourself._

_Damn straight I am. Get some sleep._

Santana put her phone down, and found the sleep she'd been searching for was suddenly close at hand.

The next morning, after breakfast, her mother made her check that she didn't want anything else from her room to go with her to Boston. Santana's room was sparse now, her bed was made, and she had a handful of clothes in the basket in the corner of the room. Her bookshelf was half empty and the room was almost completely devoid of all the personal touches like photos and cheerleading ribbons. Her mother squeezed her hand.

"This is it, mija. All ready," she said. "Let's go." She and her mother got into Santana's car, and her father into their SUV. Their plan was to spend eight hours on the road that day, and stay the night in Allentown, Pennsylvania, then drive the last six to Boston the following day. Her mother was going to drive until lunch, then Santana was taking over – mainly because her mother knew, the way mothers do, that she hadn't gotten much sleep, so she encouraged her to sleep while they were on the road.

Santana did fall asleep as soon as they'd gotten out of Lima, and stayed that way until they decided to stop for lunch. Her mother shook her awake, and told her it was time to eat.

"More coffee," Santana said. "I needed that."

"I know," her mother said. "You didn't sleep very well. But now we'll get some coffee and some food, and you'll be fine."

"Has it really been four hours?"

"Almost five," her mother said. They went into the diner and ate quickly, ordering large cups of coffee to go afterward. After a bathroom visit, they stretched their muscles out before setting out for Allentown. Santana turned the radio on, low, since her mother was looking drowsy herself, and followed her father closely. Her mother didn't stay asleep for very long, waking up and requesting a bathroom break. She called Santana's father on his cell and they agreed to stop at the next gas station.

"Good idea," Santana said, "I could use another cup of coffee."

"I blame your father," her mother said. "I mean, sure I like coffee, but the two of you have always had this ungodly attachment to the stuff."

"Can't have an ungodly attachment to something that good, mama."

"You're crazy," she said. They pulled into the gas station and filled up, on gas and coffee, and resumed driving.

The sun was going down when they got to the hotel. They were wiped from driving, and managed a brief dinner before Santana's parents went straight to bed. She had a long, hot shower, and then did the same thing.

Her phone buzzed her awake the next morning, and she showered and changed, meeting her dad in the restaurant of the hotel, standing in line for coffee.

"Your mama has a headache," he said. "You'll have to drive."

"Of course. She okay?"

"Yes, mija. She's just next door buying aspirin, she'll be in in a minute."

The drive into Boston was uneventful. When Santana started seeing things she recognized from their trip, she got little butterflies in her stomach. The little butterflies turned into full-grown dragons when she pulled up to her building. She was at her new home.

There was no time to commemorate the significance of the occasion though, because her father had called the Ikea store from the road and the delivery men showed up a moment later. Two younger guys with ball caps and tattoos showed up only minutes after the last flat packed box arrived.

"We're here to put your furniture together," one said. "Macauley Handyman."

"Do you do this a lot?" Santana's mother asked.

"The next two months is our busiest time of year," the taller one said. "College goes back, but everyone hates building furniture. We step in, build it all. It's a good arrangement."

"Mami," Santana said, "Let's go to the store. Papi can hang out, I'll need groceries and I feel like we should maybe offer them a drink or something."

"Good idea," her mother said. They left the apartment full of men and went down to the Whole Foods on the next block.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks everyone for the continued reviews and whatnot. There's still a bit to happen before the ladies get to where they're going, so be patient. There's also going to be a little more Quinn, so I hope that doesn't throw things off, the intent is just to build up the two different worlds a little. Much love._

* * *

It was only 24 hours before her parents left. The furniture was built, the appliances and homewares had arrived, she'd gotten enough groceries to last her a while, and she'd made a decent start on unpacking. She'd hugged her parents hard, and cried just a little with her mother. Then through whispers of work hard and be good, they'd gotten back into the car and now she was alone in her new place.

Santana checked her watch. Quinn would be in New Haven by now. She went into the bedroom and continued unpacking all of her bits and pieces into the bedroom. She took her time with the photos, deciding some needed to go into the living room as well. Around eight, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had to eat at some point. It was too late to east anything heavy, so she made do with a chicken salad sandwich and some fruit. Sometime between midnight and one, she collapsed onto her bed and barely managed to get under the covers before she fell asleep.

The one week that Santana had before school started was busy from the moment she got up until the moment she got to bed at night. She finished unpacking, bought everything else she needed for her house, and decided what three songs she was going to be singing for orientation week. She'd spent almost two days trying to locate a friend of a friend of Shelby's who could play piano, and after she'd name-dropped her tutor, he agreed without hesitation to play her first pieces for her.

She'd called her parents twice, once to ask her mother how to cook something she'd only half-remembered, and the second time she said tit was because she thought she'd left some sheet music in the den, but she was really just a little homesick.

Quinn had called once she settled in at Yale, confirmed she was in a dorm unit with two other girls, and the fourth room was empty, which was a miracle. Admin had told them not to get used to it, because there'd be a student taking that room by the end of orientation week. She had signed in for all of her classes, and she was more or less ready. Santana had shared that she, too, was in fact ready for class to start, during her Skype tour of the apartment the Sunday before their first day.

"I kind of just want to get the first week out of the way now," she said to Quinn. "First round of songs, settle into classes…"

"I heard a rumor that three hundred people are enrolled in the same degree plan as I am," Quinn said. "Most are pre-law and pre-med, but that's still a lot of people."

"Faith reckons that there's only going to be like a dozen people per class," Santana said. "I half feel like I'd prefer the three hundred. There's nowhere to hide with so few people."

"What time is your first class?"

"We kick off at nine," Santana said, "But I'm meeting Faith and Brandon at eight thirty for coffee. You?"

"Nine-ten. One of my room-mates is taking the same class. She seems nice, a little overwhelmed, but nice. She's got big family pressure."

"So how are the room-mates?"

"Well, overwhelmed girl is Emma. Then there's Jessica. She's very… I don't know. I like her, she's like – remember what Rachel used to be like? Everything in it's perfect place, nothing out of schedule? She's a little like that, but Southern, so she has this charm while she's at it," Quinn said. "Her boyfriend Nate is going here, too, he's already been around a couple of times."

"What's the bathroom situation like?"

"Not as bad as the horror stories make out," Quinn said. "Two showers, two toilets, and enough mirror space for all of us. But apparently we've managed to get a decent place, some people are sharing their bathrooms between two dorm units."

"Score," Santana said. "Ugh, I'm hungry. The worst part about this is having to cook for myself. I promised Mami I wouldn't just eat takeout, and as if I wanna ruin my hot body with that, anyway."

"Please, San, you ate ridiculously every day of your high school life, and you did just fine," Quinn said. "But it is better for you."

"Precisely," Santana said. "I got some sweet cooking lessons over the summer. When you come out to visit, I can totally make chicken tacos. I got the secret tortilla recipe."

"Well screw my first class, I'm coming for tacos," Quinn said. "But seriously, we should schedule a visit in once things calm down class wise."

"Totally," Santana said. "I wanna see Yale. Tell me, does it look like what it did on Gilmore Girls?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Quinn laughed. "Unbelievably."

"Alright, Q, I gotta go eat something. Text me and let me know how your first day goes," Santana said.

"You too," Quinn replied. "Talk to you later."

"Later," Santana replied, and ended the chat. She went into the kitchen and stared at the food until she decided what she wanted to cook.

Quinn, however, logged off and went and sat on the couch in her common room. Both of her room-mates were in there, watching a re-run of The OC.

"Who you talking to?" Emma asked. "Boyfriend?"

"Nope," Quinn said. "My friend Santana. She's at Berklee. The Boston Berklee, not the California one."

"Is that the cheerleader in the picture with you?" Jessica said.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "We decided that since we're only two hours away and the rest of both our families are another twelve hours on top of that, we may as well keep in touch as often as we can."

"How sweet," Jessica said. "Like sisters, kind of. So she's a musician?"

"She sings," Quinn said. "We were in glee together."

"You're a singer too?" That was Emma.

"Not really," Quinn said. "Glee was fun and all, but Santana, she's a whole different league. She was MVP at the glee national championship this year."

"She sounds super cool," Jessica said, in her perky way. "You should totally get her to come and visit sometime."

"That's the plan," Quinn said. "Any of you guys hungry? I was gonna go to the dining hall, but I kind of feel like Thai, so I'm going to order in." The girls pored over the mass of takeout menus they had sourced from places in the area.


	15. Chapter 15

_Just quickly for everyone who PMed, it's kind of important that we meet some people from Quinn's world. Trust me, would I steer you wrong?_

* * *

Santana shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other. She was standing out the front of a place called Bean Scene, where she'd agreed to meet Faith and Brandon. She was a little early, but she was up early, obsessing over the first day of classes.

"Santana!" she heard. Sure enough, it was Faith, with a guy, whom she recognized from Facebook – Brandon – who was also a vocal student. "God, can you believe it! Brandon, this is Santana Lopez. Santana, Brandon Alexander."

"Nice to meet you," Brandon said, hugging her. "Finally."

"You, too," she said. "You guys ready for this?"

"Totally," Faith said. "I'm hanging for our first performances though."

"Right?" Brandon said. "We don't start til tomorrow, Santana. Apparently today is orientation for all of us and then we get scheduled for slots starting tomorrow."

"Yeah," Santana said. "I got told today we learn how to critique each other's work." They ordered coffees to take away and walked toward the building where their orientation tour was due to begin. A woman in a Berklee t-shirt and cap was handing out bags to some people near the entrance to the building.

"You guys new students?" she asked in a perky English accent. "Tour begins in ten. Take a welcome pack!" She thrust enviro bags at them packed with leaflets and flyers, a bottle of water and the same crappy stationery colleges hand out in bucketloads. They milled around, eyeing off the other awkwardly waiting students until a guy joined the English girl and pronounced the tour ready to begin.

They followed the two of them around campus, past classrooms, performance stages, recording booths and meeting people wherever they stopped. The tour was comprehensive and lasted two hours before they had a quick break. The tour guide, Drake, told them that a class facilitator would be along shortly.

A tall blonde woman showed up after about ten minutes, and she called out for them to gather in certain locations depending on what they were studying. The group of vocal performers was eighteen students. It was almost the biggest class in the incoming group – Faith had been right, there was an average of about twelve. Santana was grateful that she and Brandon were already friends, it made that awkward meeting-of-strangers less awkward.

"Alright," Brandon muttered as the blonde began instructing another group about where they had to go. "Shall we go make friends?"

"Oh, if we have to," Santana said fake-sarcastically. They moved a little closer to the group. Santana wasn't much of an instigator when it came to meeting people. Luckily, Brandon was.

"Hey everyone," he said enthusiastically. "I'm Brandon. And this is Santana. And a hundred bucks says whatever stupid icebreaker we have to do once we get to whatever classroom we're going to will lose it's stupidity if we know each other going in." A few of the others introduced themselves, and then they were interrupted by the blonde.

"Lucky last," she said to them. "I'm Alison, and you are the most fortunate people here, because you are my students. I've been teaching here for four years, and before that I worked at Cornish in Seattle. Follow me." She led them to a classroom where all the chairs had been arranged in a circle. Santana had Brandon on one side and a short African American guy named Devon on the other.

"Okay," Alison said. "I'm assuming every single one of you either has an iPod or a smartphone. Put it on your table." Santana dug her iPod out of her bag and put it on the table. "There's a method here, I swear. No touching. So we're going to go around and introduce ourselves. I wanna know who you are, where you're from, and then I want you to press play on your whatevers, so we know what you've been listening to. That means if it's awesome, if it's daggy, if it's downright shameful. And I want the rest of you to name that album. And I will go first. I'm Alison Murphy and I'm Boston born and bred." She hit play on her iPhone, and Blondie came on. "Name the album."

"Parallel Lines," said a guy with a shaggy almost-mullet. "That's the shit."

"Indeed it is," Alison said. "So, next." They went around the room, and introduced themselves, guessed each other's music. It wasn't the worst icebreaker ever, they heard all kinds of music from different parts of the world and it provided a much needed moment of humor when a girl proudly admitted that yes, she was listening to Hanson. Once the laughter had died down, a slender girl with dark hair and painted, bitten down nails introduced herself.

"I'm Veronica Sutter, but most people call me V," she said. "I'm from Fortitude Valley, which is near Brisbane, Australia." She hit her play button. Everyone sat perplexed for a moment, until Santana realized what she was hearing. The opening refrain of the song was the most familiar thing in the world. Breathe Me.

"Colour The Small One," Santana said. "Sia." The girl raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"That's probably the hardest one so far," Alison said. They finished off the room, and then Alison pulled a stack of bound booklets from a bench top, handing them out to everyone in a specific order. Santana saw her name printed on the cover.

"The rest of today, we're going to learn how to critique each other's performances, constructively. For every performance you guys do, you will be critiqued by the class and me. You'll need to record each of your critiques in that book, and you'll also see that your performance schedules are in the front." Santana flipped it open. She was fourth, so most likely either just before or just after lunch the following day, the three songs she had picked to perform under her name in italics. _Songbird – Fleetwood Mac. Ruby Tuesday – Melanie Safka. Breathe Me - Sia._ Brandon held up his booklet so she could see. He was last and he was making a face that suggested the idea was torture. Santana just smiled and shook her head. Alison brought everyone back to attention and Santana dug a pen out to take notes.

Quinn on the other hand was scribbling furiously; her first lecture at Yale was not an easy, welcoming event. It had begun with a stern warning that there was a lot to cover and a lot was expected of them. The professor was not lying. Emma was taking notes with equal haste, until the professor called time on the lecture.

"That's enough," he said. "For tomorrow, you should read the first three chapters of McAwell." The students filed out as quickly as possible without causing a stampede.

"That was intense," Emma said. "I think I have a cramp in my hand. And there was totally a girl crying in the second row."

"It was pretty crazy," Quinn said. "I don't have a class now til three. You?"

"I have fifteen minutes before I'm due halfway across campus," Emma said. "You scored, Quinn."

"Not really," Quinn said. "Because tomorrow my longest break between classes is twenty minutes and I've got classes from eight forty til five fifteen."

"Ouch," Emma said. "What are your plans?"

"Food, call San and see what's up at Berklee. I imagine it's way more fun than what we just endured." Emma nodded, and then said she should probably bail, leaving Quinn on her own. She found a place to eat and sat in a warm spot in the sun.

"Hey, Quinn, is that you?" a male voice asked. Quinn looked up from her salad, shielding her eyes from the sun. It was Nate, her roommate's boyfriend.

"Nate," she said. He was clutching a sandwich of his own. She gestured to the space next to her, and he sat down. "How's your first day going?"

"Eh," he said noncommittally. "It's a day. Lots of writing. Lots of reading. Not much fun. You?"

"About the same," she said. "I think Emma found it a little overwhelming. But I thought it was okay, I mean, I expected it to be like this. It's Yale, right?"

"Yeah," Nate said. "Like, it's intense, and there's pressure, but if everyone could do it, it wouldn't be one of the top schools in the country. Emma is a bit unsure, from what Jessica said, but I'm sure she'll make it."

"When's your next class?" Quinn asked.

"Twenty minutes," Nate replied. "Jess and I don't have time off together except for Thursday afternoon, half of Saturday, all day Sunday."

"That sucks."

"Hell yeah it does," Nate said. "Do you have a boyfriend back home?"

"Nope," Quinn said. "I think being single for a while is a good idea for me." Nate checked his watch.

"God, I better move my ass. There needs to be some kind of instant teleportation all over campus. I swear they try and schedule classes as far apart as humanly possible." He stood up. "Good talking to you, Quinn."

"You too," she said. He strode off into the throng of people, and Quinn got up and threw her trash away. She pulled out her phone and texted Santana.

_You in class?_

_Til 4:30. Going good._

_I get out after 5. Call you then?_

_Sure._

Quinn shrugged and decided to head back to her room, and see if she could make a start on McAwell.


	16. Chapter 16

_OK - The next two chapters were meant to be one, but they ran a little long. You'll see more of Veronica, but it's mainly so I can talk about freaking amazing Australian music whenever I like, and one other reason... And you'll see more of a few other characters in the story. Because our girls wouldn't go to school and not make friends, now, would they? So 16 is all Santana, but 17 is all Quinn. Still a long way til we get to where we're going, I hope I'm not pissing you all off by taking so long._

* * *

Santana found that her performances came around a hell of a lot faster than she thought. She was standing next to Aled, who was accompanying her and she was about to begin.

"We're good to go," Aled said. "I'll follow you."

"Santana," Alison said. "Whenever you're ready." She moved a little more toward the center of the stage. She could see everyone watching intently, pens in hand. It was not remotely close to being the biggest crowd she'd sung in front of, but she was still nervous. She remembered back to a discussion she'd had with Shelby about the essence of good performances.

"_Audiences play a bigger role than you think," she'd said. "And the smaller the audience the harder it gets."_

"_How do you mean?"_

"_Think about it," Shelby said. "You don't find singing to a room that's packed all that daunting, because you don't have to focus on any specific person. But how did you feel when you sang Songbird to Brittany?" They'd talked about the songs Santana had been most connected to, and Songbird had come up._

"_That was the hardest thing I've ever done," Santana said. "Because it was me and her, and that was it."_

"_Right? There's nowhere to hide with a small audience. So you have to sell it way harder. There'll be people who don't give much back as a spectator. But there will also be people who do, and use them as your gauge. Find the people who are engaged. Find someone who gives good eye contact and work them if you can. It boosts the vibe."_

She motioned to Aled who began to play the first song. She had picked Songbird because it was the first song that meant anything real to her, for the obvious reason. And when she'd sung it for Shelby, she'd agreed that it was a great performance. Sure it was always going to remind her of Britt, but it was the very first time she'd admitted out loud, even in song, that she loved anyone more than herself.

As she was singing she could see the face of every single one of her classmates. Alison had obviously perfected the art of writing and watching at the same time, and she didn't look displeased. She realized the majority of the class was scribbling notes. Brandon was beaming at her, and Veronica, the girl who listened to Sia, was watching her with a thoughtful expression on her face.

There was only a moment between the two songs, enough time for Aled to change his music. Ruby Tuesday was a song her dad liked. He liked The Rolling Stones and Santana had heard him singing the song a few times over the years. She'd been humming it one day and Shelby had mentioned that she knew of a fantastic cover of the song that Santana would probably like. She'd been right, Santana loved the Melanie Safka version, and it made her dad cry when he'd heard her singing it.

She began to really let go, and the interaction with the audience came naturally. A lot of the students were looking up in between scribbles, and Veronica still wasn't writing a single thing down. Her pen just lay there on the desk, and her hands were interlocked behind her head. She was giving good eye contact, scrap that, great eye contact.

The third song, she'd decided to go with Breathe Me. It had been so well received when they'd done it at Nationals, and they had figured it probably wouldn't hurt if she did a song that was released after she was born. The piano began the simple refrain and Santana lost track of the people in the audience, every one of them as she sang it.

The group applauded politely, as they had done for everyone else so far, and Santana nodded her head in thanks to Aled. He gestured with his hand as if to say it was no problem. As Santana took her seat, she noticed Veronica had picked up her pen and was scribbling on the critique form.

There were only two other performers that day, and after they'd all finished, Santana was impressed with the caliber of her classmates. They were seriously good, and she worried for the first time that she might not be up to scratch.

"Hey," a voice said. Santana looked up. It was Veronica. "A couple of us are going for dinner, there's a Mexican place a couple of blocks away. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Santana said. "I don't have anything planned."

"Ask your friends," the other girl said. "Brandon and that girl you were with on the first day." Brandon and Faith had other plans, meeting up with Brandon's parents before they left Boston, so Santana joined the others in a short walk to a place that was busy but not insane, and priced at a reasonable standard considering a lot of the town was college kids.

"I'm still bitter," Veronica was saying to a guy named Jackson as they sat down, "That even though I can drink legally at home, I can't here. Mexican and cold beer is as awesome as it gets."

"I'm sure there are plenty of places around that don't card," a girl named Georgina said.

"It's not the same," Veronica said. "I'm lazy as hell, I'd rather just be able to go and buy a beer if I want one. But I'll settle for Pepsi." There were six of them at the table – Santana, Veronica, Jackson, Georgina, Bennett and Shannon. They chatted while they waited for their food about music and how long they'd been singing for. Everyone else had pretty much been singing since forever.

"What about you, Santana?" Bennett asked in his deep, accented voice. "Singing out of the womb?"

"Uh, not really," she said. "Maybe three years."

"Shut up," Georgina said. "No way three years."

"Yeah," Santana said. "I joined Glee club my sophomore year of high school. Didn't even realize I could really sing for another year after that."

"Shit," Jackson. "You just became the most scary person in the room."

"You're going to have to explain that to me," Santana said.

"Well," Veronica said simply, "We've all been doing this for like twelve years, and you just told us that technically you've only really been singing for two, maybe three. And you're as good as all of us. Imagine what you'd be like with another ten years down."

"I'm not scary," Santana said. "I spent all summer getting tutored just so I could read music properly."

"And you were in Glee club," Shannon said. "You must have been hot shit."

"Nope," Santana said. "Two of my friends are at NYADA right now, and one is in LA with some record label. We all had our areas of expertise, except Rachel, who could knock out anything." Their food arrived, steaming and heaped platters that they annihilated, still talking. The night started to slip away from them and they called it around eight thirty.

"Need a cab?" Bennett asked Santana. "Georgina and I are uptown."

"No, thanks," Santana said. "I live two blocks away the other direction from Berklee."

"I'll walk you back," he offered.

"S'all good, Bennett," Veronica said. "I'm parked at Berklee, I'll give her a ride from there." They all parted ways, and Veronica turned into the Starbucks two doors down from the Mexican place.

"Good thinking," Santana said.

"I need coffee like I need air," Veronica mumbled. They waited for their brews. Santana's phone beeped at her, and she pulled it from her pocket.

_I know I was going to call you tonight but I'm smashed. Tomorrow?_

Santana texted back.

_It's cool I was out with some classmates._

"Sorry," Santana said. "Just Quinn."

"Your girlfriend?" Santana balked visibly.

"What? No," she said. "Q's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend."

"But you are gay," Veronica said. "At least, you seriously vibe that way." They were handed large cups of coffee and they continued walking.

"I am," Santana said. "So you've either got the worlds best gaydar or-"

"I'm gay," Veronica said. "And once people know we're both gay, they're going to expect us to get together, because all lesbians just want to hook up with any girl available."

"Seriously?" Santana said. "No offense, Veronica, but you're not really my type." Veronica laughed.

"And you're not mine," she responded. "My last girlfriend was a tiny androgynous girl with an auburn pixie cut and tattoos on both arms."

"And mine was a leggy blonde dancer," Santana said. "So I'll settle for friends, if it's all the same to you."

"Deal," Veronica said. They got back to Veronica's car and she drove Santana the few short blocks to her apartment.

"Thanks," Santana said. "I'll see you in the morning. When are you singing?"

"Second slot tomorrow," Veronica said. "I'm a little nervous, but I'll be fine."

"Looking forward to it," Santana said. She went upstairs and got into a hot shower. Reflecting on the night, she was incredibly happy that the people in her class seemed to be good people, and hoped that Quinn was having the same experience at Yale.


	17. Chapter 17

_Um, this happened to me once. It was hilarious. That is all._

* * *

Quinn's alarm blared at her until she couldn't ignore it any more. She batted her hand against her bedside table until she silenced the offending screech, and sat up. She knew she was the only one left in their rooms, so she didn't feel bad about letting it go for so long. The three of them, which would be four tomorrow, had decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea if they knew each other's schedules in case anyone ever came looking for them.

Quinn's previous day had been nonstop classes followed by homework, which had taken her a little bit longer than she'd expected. Mercifully her classes that day didn't start til after lunch, so she afforded herself a sleep in. She got up and stretched, and decided a shower would be a good starting point, followed by coffee. She grabbed her towel, figuring since she was the only one there, she didn't need a robe, even though it was still hot and she was basically still sleeping in underwear and a tank top.

When she opened her door and strolled out into the common area, she found that she wasn't alone. Nate was there, and a guy she didn't know, and they both got full view of her in her very brief underwear.

"Jesus Christ!" Quinn said, immediately wrapping the towel around her waist. "Nate, what are you doing here?"

"Uh, Jess gave me her key. I've got about an hour between classes and my room is literally as far away as you can get without going off campus. She said it was cool if I hung out here," he said. Quinn was blushing furiously.

"I'm Trent," the other guy said, awkwardly. His eyes were glazed over and he wasn't blinking.

"Dude," Nate said, "Pretty sure now's not the time for pleasantries. We're sorry. I swear, it never happened."

"Thank you," Quinn said. "If this is going to be a semi-regular thing, you might want to consider making a little noise so I know you're here."

"Or you could, you know, not walk around in your underwear," Trent said automatically. Nate slapped him on the arm.

"Dude!" he said. "No more talking!"

"I'm, uh, going to take a shower," Quinn said. She slammed the door to the bathroom behind her, but she could still hear Nate's friend talking.

"And who in the name of hell was that?" he said.

"Quinn, Jess's roommate, clearly."

"Clearly, she's a fox," Trent said. "Is she single?"

"That's not a conversation I'm having with you man, sorry."

"What?"

"Trent, drop it. Leave the girl alone," Nate said warningly. Quinn was mortified. Sure, she could always have thrown some pants on, but she'd honestly thought she was alone. She shook her head and got in the shower.

When she was done, she put her shirt back on and wrapped herself back up in the towel and darted quickly across to her room and dressed. She went back into the living area and blushed again, when the guys were still there.

"We feel bad," Nate said. "So I'm volunteering Trent to go get coffee. You did just get out of bed, so I figure coffee can't be far off."

"It's okay," Quinn said. "You don't have to."

"No, but we want to," Trent said.

"Fine. White, no sugar." Trent left and Quinn sat uncomfortably on the couch next to Nate.

"Can I ask a favor?" he said.

"What's that?"

"Don't tell Jess I saw you in your underwear. She's a bit… possessive."

"I'd like to just pretend the whole thing never even happened," Quinn said. "Like I want to relive the most embarrassing that's happened to me in a long while."

"Thanks," he said. "So you guys are getting a new roommate tomorrow?"

"That's the rumor," Quinn said. "Apparently the first girl dropped out last week so housing had to find a suitable candidate or some garbage."

"At least you guys got a decent setup. We're two to a room and two rooms to a bathroom," he said. "My roommate is a total nerd. He barely says a word, I tried to ask him a bit about himself, but he was too busy studying."

"Well Jess and Emma seem pretty cool," Quinn said. Her phone rang from the bedroom. "Excuse me." Nate waved a hand at her to dismiss the apology. It was Santana.

"Hey San," Quinn said. "What's up in Boston?"

"Not much," Santana said. "Lunch break is what's up."

"How'd your performance go?"

"I think it went well," Santana said. "We don't get feedback until Friday. How's class? Insane?"

"A little," Quinn said. "But I can handle it."

"Are you being a good girl and making friends?" Santana teased. Both their parents had told them they should try and make some new friends, like they were ten years old.

"Oh, yeah," Quinn said. "Emma and Jess, and Jess's boyfriend Nate is here. Give it time. You?"

"Yeah a few of us went to dinner last night."

"Faith and Brandon?"

"No, they were with Brandon's folks. Others from my class. It was good. This one guy, Bennett, he has the deepest voice I've ever heard on a teenager, and he's South African, so it's got this mad accent. I could listen to him talk all night." The door opened and Trent appeared with coffee.

"Trent is here with coffee," Quinn said.

"And who is Trent?" Santana teased.

"A friend of Nate's, and that tone is not necessary," she said fake scoldingly. "Like, not at all."

"No?"

"Nope," Quinn said, going back into the living area. "I'm telling you San, being single is a good idea for me. And probably for you."

"I hear you," Santana agreed. "Well, I let you get back to coffee, I should really eat something before class goes back."

"I'll call you later in the week," Quinn said. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Santana laughed uproariously.

"Quinn, the list of stuff you wouldn't or haven't done is pretty short, don't you think?"

"Bitch!" Quinn said, laughing. "Whatever, I'll talk to you later."

"Later, Q." Quinn took the coffee from Trent.

"Thanks," she said.

"Friend of yours?"

"Santana? Yeah. She's in Boston."

"God, not Harvard?" Nate said. "I'm pretty sure there's rules against that."

"No, Berklee," Quinn said. "So calm down." She began to track down everything she would need for her first class that afternoon.

"You got class soon?" Nate asked.

"Yeah. I have enough time to grab something to eat, and that's about it," Quinn said. She shoved a notebook into her tote. "How the hell can I have lost most of my pens in three days?" She found a couple and stuffed them in her bag, and was just looking for her sunglasses before she left.

"Quinn are you singing?" Trent asked. Quinn hadn't even realized she was singing under her breath.

"Um, possibly. I didn't realize I was, sorry," she said.

"Don't be sorry," Trent said. "You're good. Why aren't you at Berklee?"

"Um, because Santana is only around a million times better than I am, and I don't really want to sing for the rest of my life," she said, finding her glasses.

"She's the shit?" Nate asked.

"For want of a more eloquent phrase," Quinn said, "Yeah. I'll play you something of hers another time." She checked her watch. "I have to go. See you later, I'm sure." She left the boys behind and headed toward the dining hall. Her phone vibrated.

_Just me. Tell me, you don't like California rolls, but does that mean I can't eat them for lunch?_

It brought a smile to Quinn's face, and she laughed to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey everyone, I really recommend that you check out some of the music in this story. Washington's debut album is one of my favorites ever, and Matt Corby's Brother was probably one of the best songs I heard all last year (there'd be some Florence & The Machine in there, but still). One of these days I'll collate a list of every song I've mentioned in one spot. Today is not that day._

_Also thanks to everyone who has been waiting patiently for me to update. My sinus surgery appears to have been successful and I'm almost completely off painkillers now, so I'm able to concentrate enough to write! _

* * *

The next morning, Santana met Faith at the coffee shop where they all tended to gravitate in the morning. She was tapping the counter insistently, in what Santana could only assume was a piano piece of some kind. She looked stressed.

"What's up?" she said, gesturing to the fingertips.

"Nothing," Faith replied. "Practicing. I feel like I'm playing shit in my sleep. How about your first couple of days? Stressful?"

"Not really," Santana admitted. "I sang, I'm watching other people sing." The cashier asked them what they wanted.

"Regular non-fat cappuccino," Faith said.

"I'll take a large brew, no milk, no sugar," Santana said. She caught a glimpse of someone familiar outside. Veronica was standing just outside the coffee shop window, and she did not look happy with whoever was on the other end of her phone. "Make it two."

"Jesus Christ!" Veronica exclaimed at her phone before she crammed it into her pocket. Santana and Faith waited a moment before approaching her. Santana handed her the coffee.

"That's not a good start to the day," she said.

"Half my god-damn backing band is in New Jersey," Veronica muttered angrily. "Too wasted to drive home. And I am slot number two today. Assholes."

"Ouch," Faith said. "I'll leave you two to sort that out, and I will concentrate on my own, very annoying, very chromatic issues. Later."

"Later," Santana said. "What the hell are you going to do?"

"Who knows," Veronica said. She took a large drink of the coffee. "Thanks for this, by the way. I guess I can do three other songs. I still have a drummer…"

"I wish this was a problem I could help with," Santana said.

"I should find Alison," Veronica said. "If you're familiar with any gods, do me a favor and start praying." Santana just raised her eyebrows sympathetically and went to find some of her classmates.

Veronica slid into the chair next to her just before Shannon was about to take the stage. She looked less murderous but still tense.

"How'd you go?" Santana asked quietly.

"Devon is trading places with me, I'm up after lunch. During which I'm meeting with my drummer and his flatmate who can apparently learn to play anything real quick, to teach them at least two songs," she replied. "If I ever run into those drunken assholes I'm going to slit their throats and write a sonnet about it."

"Jesus, remind me never to piss you off," Santana said. "Though I'd be pretty stabby if it were me." Shannon took the stage, so both girls turned toward the front and got ready to take notes.

Veronica was understandably absent during both lunch breaks, and Santana and some of her other classmates couldn't help but wonder what rabbit she was going to pull out of her hat to save herself. Bennett dropped down between Brandon and Santana and clarified it for them.

"She's gonna be fine," he said in his deep voice. "She plays piano like a madman, guitar, too. She's got a couple of people in there with her, and it's sounding good."

"I've never heard her sing before," Shannon said. "Anyone?"

"Just at karaoke," Bennett said. "And wow." Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"I bet you she's all alternative rock," he said.

"Actually, no," Bennett said. "But I'm going to let you hear for yourself." They didn't have to wait much longer, because their lunch break was almost up. Brandon sat next to Santana in the auditorium. The poor guy was almost dying waiting for his own turn.

"God I hope she pulls this off," Brandon muttered. "Can you imagine what would happen if she bombs? She'd be devastated." Two guys in jeans and faded shirts were pulling parts of a drum kit onto the stage. "This looks interesting."

"Alright," Alison said to them all. "After Veronica's band dramas, she's changed her setlist." She handed out pages for their critiques. _Brother – Matt Corby. What You Want – John Butler Trio. I Believe You Liar – Washington. _"Whenever you're ready, Veronica."

Santana had heard of none of the songs before and she was completely unprepared for what followed. Veronica onstage was mesmerizing. She wasn't alternative rock at all, more folk than rock. Regardless, there was no sign that she'd cobbled most of the performance together that day. Brandon nudged her halfway through the first song.

"Holy shit," he said. "If this is what she can throw together, I don't wanna imagine what she had planned." Santana nodded. She wondered briefly why Veronica was even bothering with Berklee. Seeing her sing and play the guitar like that, she didn't need to be in class with the rest of them. She remembered she was supposed to writing notes on the performance and picked up her pen.

After the second song finished, the two guys left the stage and Veronica put the guitar down and moved to the piano. One of her friends brought the microphone around and set it to her level. Santana double-checked the name of the song. Curious title. _I Believe You Liar._ The song wasn't particularly long, but Santana was drawn in to the performance. It was incredibly bare, and it was strangely compelling. She made a mental note to ask Veronica about the band later.

When Veronica finished they all applauded, and she briefly nodded to them before disappearing offstage. Santana finished writing her notes and waited for Alison to signal to Jackson to begin. Veronica slumped into a seat in front of Brandon just as Jackson took the stage for the first of his big band numbers.

Jackson's performances were the last for the day, and afterward Santana hung around with a few of the others to work on her critiques before they left. She handed the pages to Alison as she left, Veronica right behind her. It was still fairly warm outside for early evening.

"Hey," Santana said. "Coffee?"

"Sure," Veronica said. They walked to the coffee place in silence and Veronica ordered two tall blacks. They sat outside and watched the traffic ease past.

"Did you end up happy with your performances?" Santana asked.

"Yeah, considering," Veronica said. "But Ross and Glenn, I owe them massively. I'm so lucky Glenn can play a mean bass."

"I thought it was kick ass," Santana said. "Seriously. That last song was my favorite one I've heard so far."

"Washington," Veronica said. "That damn album… I love it. What are you doing now?"

"Nothing much," Santana said. "You?"

"Dinner," Veronica said. "Wanna join?"

"Let's go back to mine, I'll cook," Santana said. "I should get out of the habit of eating takeout."

"You can cook?" Veronica said.

"Some," Santana said. "I'm not a gourmet chef or anything." They went back to Santana's apartment, and Veronica looked around while she began preparing dinner.

"Nice place," Veronica said. She picked up a framed photograph of Santana and Quinn at the senior prom.

"Is this your ex?" she asked innocently.

"Uh, no," Santana said. "That's Quinn. We were each other's date to senior prom."

"Seriously, that's Quinn?" Veronica said. "Your bestie is a major hottie."

"There's another photo," Santana said. "Cheerleading uniforms. Me, Quinn and Brittany."

"Oh, she's cute, too," Veronica said. She put the photo down. "Okay, enough staring at your photos. Want a hand?"

"Grab a knife," Santana said. They made a quick rice and chorizo dish and ate sitting on the balcony. Veronica told her stories about what it was like back home and Santana in turn regaled her with stories about Glee club and the colorful characters she'd sang with.

"One more day of performances," Veronica said. "Then we're in to actual classes."

"I'm looking forward to it," Santana said.

"Me too," Veronica agreed. "Hey, do you have plans tomorrow night?"

"Nothing exciting," Santana said.

"Shannon and I are going to crash a Harvard mixer," Veronica said. "Her cousin's friend is pledging some frat and apparently it's party central this week. I'm not planning on a wild one, just figure it'd be nice to meet other students. Our class is kinda small, you know?"

"Yeah, that sounds okay," Santana said, smiling. "My mom told me I should make new friends."

"Awesome," Veronica said. "I'll drive, it'll stop me from drinking. Pick you up at like nine." She checked her watch. "Damn, it's a bit later than I thought. I should head off." Almost as if on cue, Santana's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket. Quinn.

"Hey, Quinn, can you hold on for two seconds?" she said. She showed Veronica to the door.

"I'll buy your coffee tomorrow," Veronica said. "Payback for todays. And dinner."

"Please, V," Santana said. "You were going to murder someone without that coffee, and dinner, well, it was good to have to cook for more than just myself."

"Alright," Veronica said. "Thanks, Santana. See you in the morning." Santana closed the door behind her.

"Sorry, Q," she said. "I had company, but she was just leaving."

"Oh, _she_," Quinn said.

"Don't even with that," Santana said. "It was Veronica, and she's a classmate."

"Not gay?"

"Well, actually, she is. But still, not like that. Our types are nothing like each other," Santana said. "I'm making friends. Anyway, you called me. What's up?"

"Nothing much," she said. "Just wanted someone to talk to."

"So tell me something funny," Santana said. "I could use some funny right about now." She dropped onto her couch as Quinn began to tell her a story.


	19. Chapter 19

_Just to clear up a few of the questions that have come in recently: Quinntana is, and will always be, endgame. Also, there's still a few things to happen before the girls get their act together, just tough it out a little longer. I don't like the idea of them just waking up in love all of a sudden, there needs to be some pre-game. Alrighty then. Shall we continue._

* * *

The first few weeks of class flew by for Quinn. She found the course work to be about as demanding as she'd expected, so she spent a lot of time studying. More time than any of her roommates, she thought, Jess barely ever studied and Emma was more of a last minute cram kind of girl. Their new roommate Dominique hit the books pretty regularly, and it wasn't unusual for her and Quinn to be sitting up studying while the other two were asleep or partying. Quinn liked her a lot, she was easygoing and it was nice to have someone who had the same approach to college as she did.

Jess was right into the partying aspect of college, and so was Nate. Quinn had kicked them out a couple of times when they were getting too carried away, so she knew Jess wasn't a fan of hers. Nate didn't really seem to care, the next morning he'd always show up and apologize with a cup of coffee.

Quinn had made a few different friends in her classes, and she felt like Yale was a good fit for her. It was nice to be out of Lima, in a place where she didn't have to worry about all the drama of high school, and she could pick and choose who she wanted to have contact with.

She walked into her dorm late in the afternoon and saw Dominique sitting at her desk, feet kicked up and reading a textbook.

"Hey," she said, dropping her stack of books on her own desk.

"Hey, Quinn," Dominique said. "You done for the day?"

"Sure am," Quinn said. "And I also have most of tomorrow morning off."

"Lucky bitch," Dominique said. "I have a whole stack of critical thinking texts to read."

"Jess and Emma?"

"Emma is still in class and Jess is out somewhere with Nate and Trent," Dominique said disinterestedly. "Hey, do you wanna grab dinner a bit later?"

"Sure," Quinn said. "But can we ditch the dining hall and find something better?"

"Hell yeah," Dominique said. "Apparently there's a pretty good sushi place off campus near the movie theater."

"I just wanna take a shower and then call Santana," Quinn said. She and Santana spoke on the phone every few days, and it was her turn to call. She missed the other girl a lot, way more than she thought she would, and she really looked forward to their conversations. She flopped down on the bed and dug her cell phone out to call Santana.

"Quinn," Santana said when she picked up the phone. "I was hoping you'd call tonight."

"I just got back from class," Quinn said. "How's your week going?"

"Pretty good," Santana said. "Though I gotta say, my voice is starting to get a bit sore. It's just all freaking day with the singing. Which is obvious, but whatever."

"You should text Rachel, she'll no doubt have a cure that'll fix you right up," Quinn said. "Anyway, what do you have planned this weekend?"

"Precisely nothing," Santana said. "You?"

"Nothing," Quinn said. "So I was thinking one of us should road trip and visit. I miss you."

"That's an awesome idea," Santana said. "I wanna come to New Haven and see what a big fancy college looks like."

"There's not as much space as you'd be used to," Quinn warned. "I share a space with three other girls."

"It's okay," Santana said. "I can crash on the floor, on the couch, in your bed, whatever. So now that you've settled down a little, what are they like?"

"They're okay," Quinn said. "I really like Dominique, Emma's fine and Jess, well, she's never here."

"Well, I'm excited now," Santana said. "I'll see you Friday night. Thai food. Oh, and caramel popcorn, Quinn. Don't forget." Caramel popcorn was their traditional sleepover snack food. They'd eat a bag of it and spend the next two hours complaining about the amount of sugar in their bloodstream.

"I won't," Quinn said. "I finish class at five-twenty."

"I don't finish til six, so I'll be there for a late dinner," Santana said. "I'll text you if I get held up."

"Awesome. Can't wait to see you," Quinn said. "But I should go shower so I can eat something at some point."

"Alright, but I'll see you on the weekend," Santana said. She hung up and Quinn got her stuff together for the shower. Dominique was still reading when she walked past to the bathroom.

"Dom?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"My friend Santana is coming to visit me this weekend," Quinn said. "We'll keep it quiet, just wanted to give you a heads up."

"She's the one in that photo on your bedside table?" Dominique said.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Don't worry, she's not a partier, I just miss her."

"No worries," Dominique responded. "And Jess won't even know she's here, so…" They shared a look that showed they had a similar sentiment when it came to Jess's overly social schedule. There was a loud peal of laughter outside, and Dominique rolled her eyes. "Speak of the devil."

The door opened and Jess bounded in, chased by Nate. Trent slouched in after them, and another guy, one they hadn't met before.

"Quinn!" Nate said. "What are you doing Friday night? My man Cody here tells me that there's a huge party planned. Oh, this is Cody, by the way."

"Hey," he grunted.

"Thanks for the invite," Quinn said, "But no can do. My friend Santana is coming in from Boston for the weekend, she's driving down after class so I'm going to hang out and wait for her, then we're having girls night in."

"Two questions," Trent said. "One, is she single? Two, is she hot?"

"For the love of god," Dominique muttered and left the room. Jess laughed and Nate shook his head.

"No, wait," Nate said. "Trent, you're two for two. Because, correct me if I'm wrong, Quinn, she is both single and hot."

"Seriously?" Trent asked.

"But, unfortunately, my man," Nate continued, "Unless my memory sucks ass, you're still out of luck." He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Nate.

"Huh?" Cody said. Quinn was astounded by his eloquence.

"Oh, I know!" Jess said. "Santana's the gay one, isn't she?" Trent's eyes snapped to Quinn, and she nodded exasperatedly.

"And now that we're done discussing the intimate details of my best friend's personal life," she said, "I'm going to take a shower." She left them to their party planning and went into the bathroom.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hey everyone, this one's a little longer... I'm going to try and get at least one more chapter up this week, maybe two. After that I'll be on vacation (finally) and will be restricted to posting while in airports and hotels and the like. If I seem sporadic, I'm sorry, but this holiday is two and a half years in the making. Also, a huge thank you to the people who keep reviewing and following this story. I love you guys! _

* * *

Santana swore at her GPS as it once again told her it was recalculating. She pulled over and dialed Quinn's cell phone.

"San, where are you?" Quinn said.

"My GPS is being a bitch," she said. "Look, I don't think I'm too far away. I'm parked next to a place called Jim's New & Used Guitars. There's a Starbucks across the street, and a hotel on the block I just passed called the Odette."

"OK, I know where that is," Quinn said. She quickly outlined how to get to campus from where she was.

"Sure, I got it," Santana said.

"I'll order the Thai, it'll be here when you get here, just about," she said. "See you soon." She began digging around for a menu for one of the Thai places that delivered on campus.

"Looking for something?" Dominique asked.

"Thai menu," Quinn said. "San will be here soon." Dominique shifted a few of Emma's things and pulled out a menu.

"Here," she said.

"You want something?" Quinn asked. "I'm gonna order now."

"Sure," Dominique said. "Vegetarian spring rolls and a Panang curry." Quinn ordered the food and waited with Dominique. Jess had already departed with Nate, who managed to convince Emma to go with them. There was a knock on the door and Quinn jumped up to answer it. As expected, it was Santana. Quinn leaped at her and hugged her. Santana staggered backward a few steps and dropped her duffel bag.

"Hey, easy, Q," she said. "It's been like a month." But she didn't let go til Quinn did, and then reclaimed her bag. She stepped inside.

"Sorry," Quinn said, without sounding in the least bit sorry. "Santana, this is Dominique, one of my roommates. Dom, Santana."

"Hey," Dominique said. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," Santana said. "And thanks for letting me crash in your space this weekend. I'll try and keep low profile." Quinn took Santana's bag into her bedroom.

"No problem," Dominique said. "I'm likely going to be hibernating with some incredibly fascinating textbooks all weekend anyway. You must love the whole not having to read a billion textbooks thing."

"True," Santana said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Though I do end some days not being able to speak clearly or with a sore jaw. And I do have some textbooks, it isn't just hours and hours of singing on end."

"You have textbooks?" Quinn asked coming back into the room.

"Two so far," Santana said. "Vocal technique and performance art. Q, you have to do any study this weekend? I don't wanna kill your grades."

"I did most of it already, and the rest I can swing Sunday night," she said.

"And you're sure my car won't get towed?" Quinn nodded. "Awesome. How long til the food gets here? I'm starving."

"Any minute," Quinn said. "I ordered more than we'll eat, but I'm sure Jess and the boys will finish it off tomorrow."

"Yeah, where is the infamous Jess? And who are the boys?" Santana queried. Dominique chuckled.

"As you might expect, they're hitting up a party on campus," she said. "Jess convinced Emma to go with them so it wasn't her and three boys."

"I told you about Nate, he's Jess's boyfriend. And Trent, his friend. Cody is yet another random guy that has shown up," Quinn said. Santana could sense she was a little unhappy.

"What's up, Q?"

"Nothing major," Quinn said. "Only it sometimes feels like there's always at least one guy camped out on our couch at any given time of day. I know it's college and I should be getting used to the sharing space thing, but a little warning wouldn't hurt."

"I know what you mean," Dominique said. "Last weekend I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and there were two guys sleeping on the floor I had to step over first."

"Well, this weekend, that couch is mine, so all the boys can crash somewhere else," Santana said. There was a knock on the door, and Quinn got up to pay the delivery guy. She brought the food in and passed out cutlery to the other two.

"So, Dominique," Santana said, "Where are you from?"

"Montana," Dominique said. "Great Falls, specifically. My whole family lives there, parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, great grandparents, the lot."

"Wow," Santana said, as she opened some of the containers to see what was inside. "Was Yale your number one school?"

"Sure was," she replied. "My dad's hoping it sets a good example for the rest of them. I've got three brothers and a sister still in school."

"Damn," Quinn said. "That's crazy. We're both only children."

"What about you, Santana? Berklee number one for you?"

"Berklee was the college I applied to and never expected I'd actually get into. I had applications in to a couple of schools closer to home, only applied to Berklee on a friend's recommendation."

"Well that's pretty cool," Dominique said. She speared the last of her spring rolls with her fork. "I hate to bail on dinner but these books aren't going to read themselves. I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow, though."

"Nice to meet you, Dominique," Santana said.

"Dom's fine," she replied. "And it was good to meet the infamous Santana finally." She retreated to her room.

"Infamous, huh?" Santana teased. "Talk about me a lot?" Quinn blushed just a little and nudged her with her foot.

"It's a bit hard to not talk about my best friend from high school," Quinn said. "Also, your picture is on my bedside table."

"It's all good, Q," Santana said. "You think I haven't told everyone about my super brainy bestie at Yale?" They finished their dinner and went back into Quinn's room.

"So, Jess and the boys are at a party, which means that even though I told them you were here this weekend they'll show up drunk later," Quinn said.

"Easy solved," Santana said. She strode back into the living area. Quinn heard her knock on Dominique's door, have a quick conversation and then she came back in, with the couch cushions under her arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Claiming the couch," Santana said. I'll just throw them right here, sleep on your floor."

"San, you take the bed," Quinn said. "You're my guest."

"Please, don't even," Santana said. "Now, we need some caramel popcorn up in here." Quinn broke out the popcorn and they sat around and caught up, talking about school, and whether they'd heard from anyone else. Quinn had talked to Rachel a couple of times, and Puck. Santana said she hadn't heard from anyone, but wasn't really mad about it, because she could have always called them.

"You haven't even heard from Britt?" Quinn asked, moving the bag of popcorn away from her. Santana picked it up.

"Nope," she said. "What could she possibly have to say?"

"I don't know, anything," Quinn replied. Santana yawned. "Tired?"

"Yeah, a little. What are the plans for the weekend?"

"Tomorrow we'll do breakfast, then I'll take you on a tour, lunch, wander through town… Anything you wanna do?"

"Just spend time with you," Santana said. "I missed you, but I didn't realize how much til I saw you. Now, the bathroom, so I can wash up. That drive is a bitch, I'm smashed." Quinn pointed out the bathroom and took the opportunity to change into her pajamas and pull out an extra blanket and pillow for Santana.

Santana came back in and fashioned a bed out of the cushions. Quinn disappeared to the bathroom, and they sat in bed and talked for a while longer. Quinn could tell Santana was tired so she turned the light off.

"Night San," she said.

"Night Q." It was only a matter of moments before the brunette's breathing had evened out. Quinn smiled and allowed herself to fall asleep.

They were woken a few short hours later by loud voices, laughing and someone crashing into the furniture. Santana sat up.

"The hell?" she mumbled.

"Jess, Emma and the boys," Quinn groaned. They weren't making any effort to be quiet. One of the boys began complaining loudly that the couch cushions were gone. They sat there for quite a while as the voices got louder.

"Screw this," Santana said and got up. Quinn got out of bed and followed her.

"Seriously," Santana said to the group in the living area. "How about you guys keep it down?"

"Who are you?" Cody slurred. "You don't live here."

"Neither do you, hotshot. But I am trying to sleep here, which you guys are not making easy with the drunken idiocy."

"Did you take the couch cushions?" Jess said. Nate was holding her up.

"Hell yes I did," Santana said. "I consulted both Quinn and Dominique who said that it wouldn't be a problem, so the boys can either sleep on the floor or go back to their own goddamn rooms."

"Wow," Cody said, "You're not very nice."

"I'm goddamn delightful when I'm not being woken up from my sleep," Santana said. "Now, get to crashing on the floor, or get the hell out. Wake me up again, I'll ends you." Emma disappeared to her own room, Nate and Jess disappeared to Jess's room.

"Sorry," Trent said. "We'll be quiet." Santana and Quinn went back to bed, Quinn stifling a giggle.

"Seriously, if that happened to me every weekend I'd be mad as hell," Santana said.

"Well, that was a hell of a first impression," Quinn said.

"Maybe I was a bit out of line," Santana said. "You have to see these people all the time."

"We're not exactly the best of friends," Quinn replied. "And I don't much care what they think of me."

"Well, if they're super assy tomorrow I'll apologise," Santana murmured. "Don't let me sleep too late."

"Okay," Quinn said, and they managed to get back to sleep.

The next day the girls awoke relatively early. Everyone else was still sleeping, so they stepped over the sleeping male bodies in the living area and showered and dressed. As they were about to leave, Dominique appeared in running gear.

"Morning," she said. "Did I imagine it or did you tear strips off these guys last night?"

"Oh, that happened," Santana said. "Sorry if it woke you."

"No, they woke me before that," Dominique said. "I thought it was hilarious."

"Do you want to catch up with us around lunch time?" Quinn said. "I think we'll go off campus."

"Sure," Dominique said. "I'm just going for a run, then back to the books. If you don't find me here, I'll be in the library." They left and Quinn and Santana wandered through campus, stopping at a decent café for breakfast, and coffee a bit later on.

Lunch with Dominique ended up being at a seafood grill, with the afternoon spent wandering through town. Dominique left them to dinner on their own, after which they ended up back in the dorm room. There were no extra bodies there this time, which pleased Quinn. What didn't please Quinn were the aggressive death stares Jess was shooting at Santana. Santana just laughed it off.

"As if I care what she thinks," she said. "I couldn't care less." They spent the night listening to music and giving each other pedicures, exactly what they used to do at home. They made plans to sleep later the next day and find a place for brunch before Santana drove home.

The next morning, Quinn woke up while Santana was still deeply sleeping. She dressed and ducked out of the dorms. She returned just as Santana was beginning to stir, with coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

"Coffee?" Santana said, sitting up. "Smells amazing." Then she saw the other bag. "What's that?"

"I got you a present," Quinn said. "It's kinda cheesy and lame, but hopefully it'll remind you that I'm down here." Santana opened the bag and pulled out a navy Yale hoodie.

"It's awesome," Santana said. "A little cheesy but still awesome. And as if I could ever forget you were here." She hugged Quinn and tried the hoodie on. "And when you come up to Boston to visit me, I'll get you a Berklee one."

"Deal," Quinn said. "Now, hurry up and change. Pancake brunch."

"Pancakes?" Santana said. "I'm so there." She showered and spent a few minutes packing all of her stuff into her overnight bag, and returning the couch cushions. They headed out for pancakes, Santana downing three cups of coffee with hers.

"You're gonna have to pull over and pee like, five times," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Worth it," Santana said. "That was some good coffee." They took their time making their way back to the dorm, both unconsciously not wanting to end their weekend. But they could only dawdle so long, and they were soon back in Quinn's room. Santana picked up her stuff, and they found Dominique in the living room.

"Just wanted to say it was a pleasure meeting you," Santana said.

"You too," Dominique said. "Drive safe." Quinn walked Santana to her car, removing two flyers from the windshield wipers before she put her stuff in the car. She turned to Quinn and hugged her hard.

"I had fun," Santana said. "Don't wait too long to come to Boston."

"I won't," Quinn said. "Call me when you get home so I know you're okay."

"Sure, mom." She gave her one last quick hug and got in the car, rolling the window down. "Miss you already."

"Miss you more," Quinn said, and waved as Santana pulled onto the road. Quinn went back inside and slumped on the reformed couch. Dominique looked over.

"You okay, Quinn?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just, I kinda miss having her around, and having her here this weekend made me realize just how much I miss her." Dominique looked at her curiously.

"You two are just friends, right?" she asked.

"What?" Quinn asked. "Of course we're just friends. Where did that come from?"

"Just checking," Dominique relented. Quinn sighed and picked up her history textbook. She didn't see the look that Dominique was still giving her, that suggested she wasn't entirely sure that Quinn had told her the truth.


	21. Chapter 21

_Updating from a hotel in Darwin! Thank god for cloud storage! _

* * *

Santana pushed open the door to her apartment and deposited her bag on the kitchen counter. She saw the light on her answering machine blinking, and pressed the button.

"_Hey Santana, it's Shelby. Just wanted to check in and see how you are. Rachel tells me that Quinn says you're doing really well. I'd love to hear from you sometime." _

Santana smiled and decided she would call Shelby back. And while she was at it, she decided she'd also call Puck, and even Rachel. Quinn had told her that she and Rachel would be good friends, especially now that they didn't have to be in each others face every day.

Then she wondered if it would be too weird to call Brittany. Truth be told, she was still a little bit mad at the way she'd bailed over the summer, but she didn't necessarily want the blonde to become a nothing-shaped piece of history. She settled for an email, because she could still extend some kind of friendship, without the danger of crying if something snuck up on her. Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey you." It was Quinn.

"What's new?" she said.

"Nothing much," Quinn replied. "I was just thinking, it's been like, a month since you came to Yale, it was probably time I returned the favor."

"Hell yes," Santana said. "This weekend suits me."

"It suits me too," the blonde responded. "I'll take the five fifty train, and text you when I get close."

"For sure," Santana said. They made small talk for a while before Santana realized she still had to cook dinner. They hung up and Santana set her dinner cooking in the oven. She used the time while the lasagna was cooking to call Shelby and Puck. It was good to hear their voices, and even little Beth said hello on the phone.

"Any time the phone rings," Shelby said, "She assumes it's for her." Santana laughed, and realized she actually missed some of the people from Lima, not just her parents. Shelby and Beth. Puck, who was apparently not doing too bad a job with the football team. Obviously she missed her folks, but she had thought that maybe Lima would have been easier to leave behind. She called Rachel and got her voicemail, so resolved she would send her an email instead.

The oven timer buzzed and Santana ate alone in her kitchen, stereo on and occasionally humming along to whatever was playing as she ate. When she'd tidied up and sat back down, she decided she may as well email Brittany. She got Rachel out of the way, remembering to ask her for any tricks to keep her voice from disappearing as it got cooler. Then it was Brittany's turn.

She didn't really know what to say, but she wanted to say something, let her know that she wasn't going to hold a grudge for the rest of their lives. She sighed and tried to keep it simple.

_Hey Britt,_

_How's Cali? Bet you're tan as hell, and I'm jealous. Berklee is amazing. There's only eighteen in my class, and we have a lot of fun. You'd like these people, they're very open. I've been down to New Haven to visit Quinn at Yale, and I'm glad I didn't go to a regular college. I mean it was beautiful, but Berklee's really relaxed and I dig that._

_Anyway, I just wanted to touch base and make sure you were taking the dance world by storm. I hope the sunshine is keeping you happy. Drop me a line sometime._

_San._

She re-read it twice. It was a bit weird, polite but not super intimate. She figured it would have to do. At least she'd made the effort. She hit send and decided to shower before homework and bed.

The next morning, Veronica was waiting in their normal meetup spot – the low concrete wall outside the coffee place. They'd settled into a routine. Meet up early for coffee, class, lunch with the group, class, and occasionally dinner with whoever felt like going out.

"Hey," Veronica said. She was reading a Rolling Stone, which she unceremoniously rolled up and shoved in her bag. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Santana said. "Oh, Q's coming up this weekend. Return the favor, road-trip wise."

"Cool," Veronica said. "What are you going to do?"

"Friday night dinner in, Saturday, check out town and show her Berklee, Saturday night I thought I'd see if anyone wants to come with us to the karaoke place." There was a place a few blocks closer to town that let them all come in and sing and hang out as long as they didn't drink, which they were cool with.

"Well, I'm in," Veronica said. "Never gonna turn down an opportunity to get into some karaoke." Santana nodded and they went inside to pick up their morning coffees.

It got to Friday before Santana knew it, and she was standing at the train station obsessively checking her watch over and over. Quinn had texted and said she was about half hour away. She heard the rumble of the approaching train and waited for it to stop at the station. She waited for the throng of suits to disappear, and spotted Quinn coming toward her. She hugged her hard and took the overnight bag from her.

"Did you get your hair cut?" Santana asked. "It's a bit shorter, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I keep trying to grow it out, but it gets to a certain length, but then I get mad at it and cut it off."

"I like it short," Santana responded. "Hungry?"

"Hell yes," Quinn said.

"There's an awesome pizza place on the way back," Santana said. "They don't normally take too long." They picked up dinner on the way back, and Santana unlocked the door to her place. Quinn had seen it before via Skype, Santana had given her a walking tour. But she still took her time walking around, running her fingers along the fabric of the couch, the benchtop in the kitchen. Santana showed her to the guest room. Quinn flicked the light on, and saw something folded up on the bed. She picked it up – a Berklee hoodie.

"I did promise to return the favor," Santana said. Quinn put it on straight away and they went back into the living room to eat pizza on the couch. They did the normal catch up, and before long Quinn was yawning. Santana tossed a cushion at her.

"So, you're clearly ready for bed," Santana said. "Come on." She pulled Quinn to her feet. She showed her to the bathroom, pointed out the clean towels for her, and left her to wash up as she changed into her pajamas.

"What are the plans for the morning?" Quinn asked her in the hall.

"Brunch, mini tour of Berklee and a few other nice spots I like around the place, dinner, then karaoke night," Santana said.

"Karaoke night?" Quinn smiled.

"Hell yes," Santana said. "We'll meet some of my classmates there."

"Will the infamous Veronica be there?" Quinn asked teasingly.

"Yes, she will, and how many times do I have to tell you it's not like that with V?" Santana said. "One hundred and ten percent, not like that in the slightest."

"Wake me in the morning?" Quinn said.

"Please, you'll be waking me," Santana said. "Brunch is like, ten-thirty. And yeah, you gotta book around here. Boston is definitely a brunch city." Quinn closed the door to the guest room and Santana went into her own room, each girl out like a light almost as soon as they got into bed.

The next morning Santana emerged from her bedroom to find Quinn already showered and dressed, reading on the couch. She mumbled some kind of greeting.

"Good morning sunshine," Quinn teased. "Good to see you're still a non-functioning nightmare in the morning."

"Saturday is sleep in day," Santana said. "I'm going out on a limb for you Q, disrupting the pattern. What are you reading? School book?"

"Not exactly," Quinn said. "I was talking to one of the TA's from one of my classes, and she recommended it to me. Poetry." Santana wrinkled her nose.

"This is why you're at Yale, and I'm not."

"She's trying to get me to submit something for some writing competition, but I dunno," Quinn said. "Maybe one day."

"I'll take a shower and we'll go get brunch," Santana said. "We'll walk, I don't think it's too cold out there yet." She took a quick shower and she and Quinn left the apartment. Santana's favorite brunch spot was a place called the Bedhead Café, where the coffee was strong and the food was always quick. As she expected, the café was bustling, so she gave her name to the guy by the door and he pointed out their table, by the window, tucked in to the corner.

"What's good here?" Quinn asked. Santana motioned in greeting to a girl behind the counter she'd met out and saw around, normally here when she and Veronica came for breakfast. She was kind of a friend.

"Everything," Santana said. "Seriously. But get something you won't mind walking off, because the tour is going to be a walking one." The girl appeared at the table.

"Santana," she said. "Good to see you again."

"Charlotte, this is Quinn, Quinn, this is Charlotte. She's studying at Harvard, but I don't hold that against her because her coffee skills are unparalleled," Santana said. Quinn chuckled.

"Quinn as in Yale Quinn?" Charlotte asked, giving her a fake evil eye. "I think we might have to be mortal enemies or something."

"I copped enough grief from my roommates about coming to Harvard territory as it is," Quinn said. "But San trumps Harvard."

"See that?" Santana said. "I trump your entire school. Any chance you wanna brew us up something magnificent and strong? Black for me, white for Q, no sugar in either."

"Sure thing." The girl disappeared and Quinn looked at Santana expectantly.

"And Charlotte is..?"

"Oh, during the first few weeks of term a couple of us crashed a Harvard mixer to meet some people. Charlotte was one of the people. And before you get all suspicious eyes on me, I'm pretty sure she's into Veronica. All I know is, she makes good coffee, and that's enough for me." Charlotte brought back their coffee, and Quinn could smell that it was strong as hell.

"Where's your other friend?" Charlotte asked casually. Santana raised an eyebrow at her and a faint blush appeared on the other girl's cheeks. "You guys normally show up here together."

"Veronica?" Santana said. "Uh, this is just a me and Q deal. But if you're not busy later tonight a bunch of us are going to go sing karaoke at The Dive. You should come."

"I might swing by if I can tear myself away from Russian history," she said sarcastically. She noticed the other barista beckoning her back. "Ugh, duty calls. Enjoy your breakfast, girls." Santana and Quinn ordered French toast and bacon and drank two cups of Charlotte's acclaimed coffee before heading out for a walking tour of Boston and Berklee.

Santana took her to the campus and showed her around, and they walked through some of the downtown Boston area. It was starting to turn a little chilly, so they walked back to Santana's. Quinn went and grabbed her Berklee hoodie and Santana made some coffee.

"What time is dinner?" she asked.

"Seven thirty," Santana said. "Mexican, lots of it." Her phone beeped in her pocket, so she pulled it out.

"It's just V wanting to know what time karaoke starts," Santana said.

"You should invite her to dinner," Quinn said. "She's your best friend here, yeah?"

"I guess you could say that," Santana said. "You sure? Coz I'm cool having girl dates with my actual best friend."

"No, I wanna get to know her, and that will be a little harder at a karaoke bar," Quinn said. Santana shrugged and finished texting her back. There was a bit of a silence before Quinn spoke again. "Do you ever think we're going to end up back in Lima?"

"God I hope not," Santana said. "I know I'm gonna have to go back and see my family and whatever, but I kinda feel like the both of us are bigger than Lima, you know?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I don't really want to go back there, either."

"Well, we have a few hours to kill before dinner. Wanna watch something super trashy on television?" Quinn smiled at her friend and settled into the couch, kicking her feet over Santana's lap.


	22. Chapter 22

_I'm still travelling and whatnot but I had time to do a little work on a few things while my best mate and travel buddy was in emergency (long story). A big thank you to everyone who contributed to the 100 reviews on this story. I feel quite honoured that so many people are reading and recommending my fic to their friends. You guys are the shiz! _

* * *

Quinn watched as Santana sang onstage with Veronica. She was glad to see that her best friend looked happy – properly happy. Dinner had gone well, Quinn liked Veronica a lot. She found the Australian girl to be mildly self-deprecating but in a funny way. She was also a straight shooter, which Quinn appreciated. They'd talked and laughed their way through a mountain of food before heading to The Dive, which both Veronica and Santana assured Quinn was classier than it sounded.

Quinn was surrounded by Berklee students and Charlotte, who had brought a friend, and it was clear that Santana was in her element here. The guy doing the karaoke knew most of them by name, and the patrons loved them. She was sitting next to Brandon, who was gearing up for Queen after Santana and Veronica were finished.

"She's really very good," Brandon said to her.

"Oh, I know," Quinn said.

"We were a little afraid of her at the start," he continued.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I don't mean to sound arrogant, but we're all pretty good. I mean, we all got in to the same program. I've been singing since I can remember, performing since I was six. Same story for most of us. But Santana is just as good after a couple of years, and she tells me that she only really learned how to read music properly during the summer," he said.

"She spent the summer getting tutored," Quinn said.

"And that made her absolutely terrifying," Brandon said. "It's almost a shame, I can't imagine what Santana would be like after twelve years. Luckily for us, she's very candid about what she does and doesn't know. No illusions."

"That's how she is about everything," Quinn said. The girls finished their song to much applause, and Brandon winked at Quinn as he got up. Santana dropped into the chair next to her.

"So, Q," she said, "You gonna sing with me, or what?"

"Me? Here? No way," Quinn said.

"Come on," Santana said. "It'll be like old times, you can pick whatever song you want."

"San, I'm nowhere near as good as you guys, there's no way I'm getting up there," she said.

"Yeah, sing!" Veronica said. Quinn shook her head.

"Maybe later," she said, and they all seemed placated.

"You know you don't have to if you don't want to," Santana said.

"I know," Quinn said. "But like I said, maybe later I'll feel a little bolder." Brandon was onstage singing Pearl Jam's Even Flow, and the rest of the Berklee students were loving it.

"Hey, Q," Santana said, "Want something to drink?"

"Sure," Quinn said, "Diet Coke?" Santana got up, Veronica joined her and the seat next to Quinn was immediately claimed by Charlotte.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "It's like being back in glee, but kind of more fun. Will you sing?"

"I can't be more blunt that saying hell no," Charlotte laughed. "I'm not even a shower singer. Tori can back me up on that. You?"

"Maybe a little later. It's a little intimidating, all these performer types."

"Aren't you a performer type?"

"Not like this," Quinn said.

"Well, what are you studying?" Charlotte asked.

"I'm going to major in English," Quinn said. "You're a sophomore, right?"

"Yeah. History," Charlotte said. "Modern. Tori and I take Russian history together." Tori was talking to Shannon and Bennett animatedly.

"Cool," Quinn said. She looked around and saw Santana and Veronica engaged in conversation with two guys at the bar. Charlotte's eyes followed.

"So, you and Santana are, what, together?" she asked.

"No," Quinn said. "We're just friends, we've been friends since we were kids."

"Oh," Charlotte said, not quite hiding a tone of surprise. "I just assumed – you two seem – "

"People do assume that," Quinn said casually. "But what about you and Veronica? Or am I assuming?" Charlotte blushed deeply.

"I don't hide that sort of stuff well," she said. "Yeah, I'm into her."

"I think she's into you, too," Quinn said, "For what it's worth." Charlotte looked hopeful. The girls returned with drinks, and Brandon wrapped up his song, replaced by someone who wasn't in their group, but was doing a decent job of Desperado. Charlotte glanced at Quinn, to solidify the understanding that they obviously wouldn't talk about Veronica, and shifted down a seat so Santana could take her place next to Quinn.

"You having an alright time?" Santana asked. "If you're not, we can totally bail and do something else."

"No, no," Quinn reassured her, "I am having fun. Your friends are great people, and I've missed hearing you sing all the time." Even when they weren't in Glee, Santana would sing all the time – to the radio, sometimes to no music at all.

"You sure?"

"Sure," Quinn replied. "We've got all the time in the world to catch up." They got caught up talking with Santana's classmates, and watching different people get up and sing as the hours passed. Shannon enamored the bar with a Joan Jett number and people began checking their watches. Santana excused herself to go to the bathroom, and her chair was vacant for maybe ten seconds before Tori, Charlotte's friend slid into the chair.

"Hey," she said. "I'm Tori."

"Quinn."

"Can I ask you a question about Santana?"

"We're not dating," Quinn said automatically.

"Do you know if she's… seeing anyone else?" Tori said awkwardly.

"She isn't," Quinn said. "And I'd know if she was. You're interested in her?"

"She seems like a lot of fun," Tori said. Quinn paused for a moment. Santana wasn't seeing anyone, and Tori was probably a nice enough girl.

"She is," Quinn said simply, leaving it at that. Tori looked at her curiously. "What?"

"You're sure you and Santana are just friends?"

"Sure," Quinn said. "Though I'm beginning to wonder why three different people have asked me that recently."

"It's because you guys are super close," Veronica said, leaning over. "Like, weirdly." Tori cocked her head.

"Just as long as I'm not jumping in on your territory," Tori said to Quinn. "I'd like to hang out with her sometime."

"My territory?" Quinn chuckled. "This isn't a gangland war. San can do whatever she likes with whomever she likes. Inside scoop though, horror movies over comedy, Thai food over sushi, and ice cream always wins."

"I'll remember that," Tori said. "And maybe I'll text her or call her. Thanks, Quinn." Santana returned and bent down to talk to Quinn.

"Let's take off," she said. "Get some coffee on the way back." Quinn nodded and they began farewelling the rest of the group. Veronica hugged Quinn and told her not to be a stranger.

"I'll get up as often as I can," she promised. "But I have a feeling school's going to get more intense so we'll see how that goes." Bennett and Devon offered to walk them back to Santana's, but instead they took a cab and got coffee around the corner from Santana's apartment. It was now a bit chillier, and Quinn gripped her cup tightly to keep her hands warm. Santana was humming something.

"Hey San?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"You're really happy here, aren't you?" Santana was quiet for a moment.

"You know, I think I am," she replied. "Like, genuinely happy."

"I could tell. You're all – I don't know, glowy."

"Glowy? Aren't you majoring in English?" she teased.

"Shut up. You fit in so well with these people, and this town," Quinn said. "You look like you've found a space where you fit."

"You don't fit at Yale?"

"I do," Quinn said. "But it's good to see you happy. For real."

"Don't forget," Santana said, throwing an arm around her shoulder, "That a lot of that happy is because of you being here." Santana let them into the building.

"Careful," Quinn said, "Some of your friends already think we're dating."

"What?!"

"Charlotte and Tori asked if we were together," Quinn said. "And Dom thought the same thing at first."

"You know, Veronica thought that too," Santana mused. "Oh well. Let's be real, Q, we both have excellent taste. We could do worse." They went into the apartment, shedding their jackets and kicking off their shoes.

"I like your friends, though," Quinn said. "They're almost like having glee again."

"Right? Except it's not so much about beating each other out for solos, thank god. What time is your train tomorrow?"

"Two," Quinn said. Santana yawned.

"Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry, I'm there, too." They both washed up for bed and Santana stuck her head into the guest room.

"Night Q. I'm cooking breakfast in the morning."

"Night San."

The next morning, Quinn was reading in bed when she heard Santana get up and the shower turn on. A moment later, she heard Santana singing. Rachel would always tell them that singing in the shower was great because bathrooms naturally have better acoustics than most other rooms and humidity was good for vocal cords. She was probably right. She closed her book and listened through the wall. Santana was singing an Alicia Keys song, and Quinn hummed along with her until the shower turned off.

"Q?" There was a knock on the bedroom door. "You decent?"

"Yeah," she said, and Santana poked her head in.

"I'm gonna get started on breakfast," she said. "And I'll put the coffee pot on. Have you been awake long?"

"A while, but I was reading," Quinn said, getting up. "I'll take a shower."

By the time Quinn was finished and dressed, the coffee was ready and Santana was dishing up something that smelled amazing and looked as if it consisted primarily of potato, tomato, cheese and bacon.

"Look at you, all domestic," Quinn chuckled.

"Mom was worried about me starving to death," Santana said. "She thought she better impart some of that wisdom." She put plates side by side on the breakfast bar and they sat down to eat. They'd barely begun when Santana's phone began to vibrate on the end of the counter. She leaned over and picked it up.

"Huh," she said, raising her eyebrow.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"It's Tori, Charlotte's friend," Santana said. "She wants to know if I can hang out sometime."

"She did mention she might do that," Quinn said.

"She did?"

"Briefly." Santana's thumbs fidgeted over the keyboard on her phone. "Are you going to see her?"

"I don't know…" Santana trailed off.

"She seemed nice," Quinn added.

"Yeah she's pretty cool, but I don't know if I want to do a whole girlfriend thing right now," Santana said.

"Nobody's saying you have to jump into a relationship," Quinn said. "There's nothing wrong with hanging out. If it goes somewhere, it goes somewhere, if not, it doesn't."

"You're right," Santana said. "I'll keep it casual and see what happens." She texted back and put the phone down. "What about you, Q? Any romantic prospects on the horizon?"

"Not even a little bit," Quinn said emphatically. "I mean Trent, Nate's friend, he gives me the puppy dog eyes sometimes, but that's just a no."

"No?"

"He's basically Finn, but a rich frat boy version," Quinn said. "And I'm not really looking to go there with anyone, let alone someone Jess associates with on a regular basis."

"Not best friends, huh?"

"She was all prim and proper southern belle for the first few weeks but now she's this ongoing party machine, constant noise and bitching. It's like Regina George is in my dorm," Quinn lamented. "It might be wrong, but I prefer Nate and Trent to Jess." Santana's phone vibrated again.

"Apparently Charlotte and V are planning to go see a band on campus at Harvard and Tori wants to know if I want to tag along." She sighed. "What the hell."

They finished breakfast and went and hit up downtown, just strolling in and out of stores until it approached lunchtime.

"We should probably get something to eat before you go home," Santana said.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "You know, Boston is kind of cool. You walk into New Haven and the whole place is so preppy. And even though Berklee and Harvard aren't that far apart, it feels less… I don't know. Rigid? Stuffy?" Santana pointed at a ramen place, and they aimed for it.

"Yeah, it's pretty rad. Damn sight better than Lima, that's for sure." Quinn nodded her agreement. They ate a quick lunch before making their way back to the apartment so Quinn could get herself together for the trip back. All too soon, they were on the train station platform, the tell-tale rumble of an approaching train signaling that the weekend was at its end.

"I had fun, San," Quinn said. "Let me know how it goes with Tori?"

"I will. And call me when you get back, so I know you're okay." The train shuddered and squealed to a stop. Quinn hugged Santana hard, picked up her bag and moved toward the train door.

"Miss you, San."

"Miss you more, Q. Talk to you later." Quinn gave a little wave, and Santana stood there as the doors closed and the train rattled away. She felt, despite the fun they'd had that weekend, sad that Quinn was gone.


	23. Chapter 23

_OK, this one's not as long as the others. But this is like, the first sign of progress, so I hope that makes up for it being short. I may get another one up Tuesday or Thursday, depends on the other fic I'm writing! _

* * *

Quinn picked up her phone and looked at it for the third time in the past ten minutes. She put it back down, and Dominique shot a look at her. They were in a relatively empty corner of one of the libraries, after Jess and Emma had turned the dorm into a Sunday night party destination again. The two of them had bolted when the sixteenth person arrived, realizing that they weren't going to get any work done. But Quinn had pretty much checked her phone obsessively all night, and it wasn't so much that it annoyed Dominique, but that it was clear something was on Quinn's mind.

"Alright, Quinn," Dominique said, throwing her pen down. "What is it?"

"What's what?" Quinn asked, eyes darting back to her phone.

"Are you expecting a phone call? You've been checking that thing like it's predicting the future or something."

"San said she would text me."

"Yeah, but you guys text each other all the time," Dominique countered.

"She's out on a date, and I just want to know how it's going," Quinn said. Dominique sat back knowingly.

"Ah. That explains a lot," she said.

"Sorry?"

"Santana's on a date?" she said. Quinn nodded. "And you're sitting here dying to find out how it went. So tell me, are you hoping this date goes well, or fails miserably?"

"I want Santana to be happy," Quinn said.

"That's nice to hear, but it doesn't actually answer the question." Dom just watched her until she answered.

"I don't know," Quinn admitted. "I met the girl, Tori. She's nice. Pretty, too, I guess. She even asked me if San was seeing anyone and I said no. But I don't think that she's what Santana's after, you know?"

"No."

"I mean, I know San. I know what she's attracted to. I know what she's looking for. And as nice as Tori is, I don't think she's it. And I also feel a little bad, because I encouraged Tori to ask her out, and pretty much told San to go out with her." She sighed. "And now I can't figure out why I care so much if she sees Tori at all."

"Is it just Tori, though, or is it anybody?" Dom challenged. Quinn fiddled with the pen in her fingers.

"Is this back to the thing where you and apparently everyone else think that Santana and I are in love with each other?" she asked.

"Everyone else?" Dom said. "So I'm not the only one who thinks that?"

"Tori, Charlotte and Veronica," Quinn said. "Veronica thinks we're weirdly close."

"And what do you think about that?"

"I think that if you guys knew us, like where we came from, what we've been through, it'd explain a lot. Both of us have gone through some seriously crappy stuff. And we need each other."

"So you two know everything about each other, you need each other blah blah blah, and suddenly you're sitting here thinking about her being on a date with a perfectly nice girl, and you can't figure out why it's bothering you," Dominique surmised. "Quinn, for a smart girl, that's pretty stupid."

"But, it's Santana." Quinn said emphatically. "Don't you think I would have noticed sometime in the past ten years that I was in love with her?"

"Not necessarily," Dominique said. "Look, there's nothing you can do right now to find out what Santana and this Tori girl are up to short of calling and interrupting. And don't be that person, Quinn. All I'm saying is, there's gotta be a reason so many people assume you guys are a couple. And there definitely has to be a reason why it bothers you that Santana's out on a date that you pretty much orchestrated for her. You need to cut the crap and figure out whether she's your friend, or more."

"Ouch," Quinn said. "Tell me straight, next time."

"You need to hear it, Quinn. Just, think about it, okay?"

"Okay," Quinn said quietly. "Though, I have to say, I'm pretty confused."

"I'm pretty sure we're all confused when it comes to you two," Dominique lamented. Quinn's phone vibrated, and the blonde grabbed it hastily. A look of disappointment came over her face.

"Rachel," she said. She answered it, getting up and moving away. Dominique just shook her head.

A little later in the evening, Santana pushed the door to her apartment open. She'd had a nice time with the girls. Veronica and Charlotte were now a thing, they'd spent half the evening wrapped around each other in various places all over campus.

Tori was a sweet girl, kind of shy, but nice enough that Santana was glad she'd come out. She realized part way through the night, though, that she didn't feel anything resembling attraction toward the girl, not for any specific reason. As they'd walked back to the car, Santana had tried to let Tori down easily telling her that she really wasn't looking for a relationship, but she would be happy if they could hang out as friends. Tori had taken it well, better than Charlotte had taken it. Santana had to assure Charlotte, twice, that there was nothing wrong with Tori, she just wasn't in that place right now.

She was surprised Quinn hadn't called during the night, and wondered if it was too late to call her now. She texted instead. _You up? _Her phone rang almost straight away.

"Hey Q," she said. "Didn't know if you were still awake or not."

"Dom and I were at the library til ten, and now we're at a coffee place because our dorm room is full of a million people we don't really want to share our space with."

"Jess throwing a party?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Dom and I locked all our stuff in our rooms, some of those guys looked shady."

"Maybe the campus cops will shut them down," Santana said.

"Here's hoping," Quinn responded. "Anyway, enough about me, you're the one who went on a date. Verdict?"

"Tori's really nice," Santana said. "But I already told her that I'm not looking for anything other than friendship."

"Oh really?" Quinn said. She surprised herself with how pleased she sounded to hear that.

"Yeah. She's cute, and nice, and pretty chill, but it just wasn't there, you know? It'd be stupid to get into something like that," Santana said. "Better to tell her now than wait and be a mad bitch later."

"Did she take that okay?"

"Yeah. We're cool," Santana said. "V and Charlotte, now, that's a different matter."

"They got their act together?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Santana said. "They look pretty great together." They made some more small talk, what was planned for the week, and ended the conversation with Santana promising to call Tuesday night. Quinn returned to the table where Dominique was waiting.

"So," Dominique said, "You look incredibly relieved. The date didn't go well?"

"San told her she just wants to be friends," Quinn said. "It was all kind of amicable, she said she just didn't feel it."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I feel – like you said, relieved," Quinn realized. "What the hell is that?"

"Quinn," Dominique said, "I'm going to ask some pretty blunt questions. If I go too far, tell me to shut up. But I need to you to be completely honest."

"Okay," Quinn said nervously.

"I only know what you've told me, so here goes. You have not had an easy time with love, have you?"

"No."

"Or with people in general?"

"You could say that."

"Is Santana the most important person in your life?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"How did you feel when you realized she might actually end up liking this girl Tori?"

"Uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Because I like being the person that makes Santana happy."

"But you don't think you're in love with her?"

"I don't think so," she said somewhat unconvincingly.

"And is a little of that to do with the fact that you've never even entertained the thought of dating a girl before?" There was a pause as Quinn digested this.

"Maybe." She held up a hand. "Give me a minute here." She wondered if maybe Dominique was right. Was she really in love with Santana, but was talking herself out of it because she was a girl? Not intentionally, of course, but after living with her dad, was it just default for her to assume that it would have to be a boy? Because if she was honest with herself, even when things were at their best with Finn, hanging out with Santana was a million times better. Santana made her happy.

"We're getting somewhere, aren't we?" Dominique said. Quinn looked at her helplessly.

"Christ, Dom, am I in love with Santana?"

"Can't answer that for you," Dominique said. Quinn was staring off into space. "Quinn?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay if you're freaking out."

"Good, because I am."

"Just make sure you think it all through, okay? And if you need to talk…"

"Yeah, thanks," Quinn said. "Um, I think I'm going to take a walk."

"Is this an alone time thing?"

"Yeah. But I won't be too long, just, you know."

"I do." Quinn slung her bag over her shoulder and walked back towards the libraries, head spinning and churning with things that suddenly made no sense whatsoever. Or maybe they made perfect sense, she couldn't quite tell.


	24. Chapter 24

_OK, so it's Thursday and I did promise an update. This chap is going to make a lot of people mad, I think, but remember, Quinn's the one having revelations. Santana is still, shall we say, completely oblivious. Please don't send me hate, it's all there for a reason, I promise. Also, I think I may get another one, maybe two up this weekend. Heart's A Mess is a song that was originally written by Gotye, it's one of his best pieces, but I just adore the Missy Higgins cover. It's on YouTube, look it up._

* * *

Santana met Veronica in their normal Monday morning meet-up spot, the coffee place right next door to Berklee. She was completely anticipating an interrogation of some kind regarding the previous evening. But Veronica wasn't much of a morning person, even less so than Santana was, so it was in complete silence that they walked inside to wait in line for their coffee. They gave their respective orders to the cashier, and only once they each had a cup in hand did Santana speak to her.

"Morning," she said.

"Mmm," Veronica responded, and Santana smiled. Veronica took a large drink of her coffee. "Good morning."

"You know, a lot of people would be interested to find that there's someone who deals with mornings worse than I do," she said.

"Daylight is so god damn offensive to my brain," Veronica said, and they both laughed.

"How was the rest of your night?" Santana asked.

"Wasn't much longer than what you were out for," Veronica said. "Dropped you off, dropped Tori off, dropped Charlotte off."

"But you're seeing her again, right? Because you two are seriously cute together."

"I'm going to see her this afternoon, but in terms of going out again, she's going to check her work schedule and figure out when she's free," Veronica said. "But what happened with Tori?"

"Nothing," Santana said. "She's nice and all. But I didn't really feel that spark, you know?"

"What?" Veronica teased.

"You know what I'm talking about," Santana replied, smacking her on the arm. "It wasn't there."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Veronica said. "Like, even though Charlotte and I have been dancing around this thing for a while, there was something there, the first time we met."

"Exactly," Santana pointed out. "And it wasn't there with Tori. I told her that I'd like to be friends, though. So, we're cool."

"As long as this wasn't some left over ex girlfriend crap," Veronica said.

"Britt? Honestly, I didn't even think about her. I did send her an email last week, though. Just a hi, how's California thing. I haven't heard back, so I'm taking that to mean she's super busy." They headed toward the regular auditorium where their class was held, running into a few of their classmates along the way. Alison had the front two rows filled with students none of them recognized.

"Come in," she said to them, as they awkwardly milled around the doorway. Some of the people already sitting down twisted around to look at them. They filled the seats behind the strangers and waited.

"Okay," Alison said, "So, let's get this super awkward stuff out of the way. These guys are doing the same course as you, only they're juniors. They're here to meet you guys because starting at the beginning of next term, they'll act as your mentors. On Friday, you'll each sing one song, and they'll get a copy of your critiques and performances so far."

She introduced them all in turn, and explained that after they had the opportunity to study their work so far, the juniors wrote their own summaries, which Alison would use to determine which student they were paired with. The rest of the morning was a discussion held between both groups about the theory behind stage presence. After classes had let out for the day, Veronica caught up with Santana outside.

"I have a song that I think you should sing," she said.

"Huh?"

"I found a song that I think you would totally nail," Veronica repeated. "I don't have it on me. Wanna meet up tonight?"

"Sure," Santana said. "What time?"

"Um, maybe eight thirty?"

"That's cool," Santana said.

"The late night coffee shop near my place," Veronica said. "You remember where the hospital is?"

"Oh, that place across the road?" Santana asked.

"That's the one. I'll see you there?"

"I'll be there. Say hi to Charlotte for me." Veronica grinned and headed off toward her car. When Santana got home, she called Quinn.

"Oh, hey San," Quinn said distractedly. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Santana said. "You okay? You sound a bit weird."

"No, I'm okay, this just isn't a very good time," Quinn said.

"Oh, sorry," Santana said. "Just checking in. Call me back later if you like."

"What? Uh, yeah, okay, maybe. Talk to you later San." Quinn hung up, and Santana just stared at her phone. Quinn was acting out of it. She waited a moment and typed out a text. _Hey Q, I know you said it was a bad time, but if there's something up you can call me anytime. For anything. _

In New Haven, Quinn was reading the text message and feeling horrible about it. She had spent almost a whole day severely distracted by her previous night's conversation with Dom. One of her professors called her name three times before she responded.

Quinn was sure it wasn't as simple as Dominique would make it out to be. There was way too much in both of their histories to just give it a massive blanket summary like that. If she was in love with Santana, that was a massive thing to wrap her head around.

She didn't even know if she'd ever been in love at all, properly anyway, so she didn't really have a frame of reference to begin with. And Santana had just gotten over a relationship with her other best friend, and she couldn't bear to think about what would happen if they went the same way as her and Brittany.

Then there was the crippling fear that if she did decide that what she was feeling was worth pursuing, then what? What if Santana just looked at her and laughed? What if she got mad? So she couldn't talk to Santana, not yet, because she could barely string five words together about a subject that didn't matter to her at all. But the message made her feel bad that she was maybe punishing Santana for her own inability to sort out what she was feeling. She sighed, and texted her back. _I know, San. Thanks. I promise I'll call tomorrow._

Santana got the return message and felt a little better. She stuck her phone in her jeans pocket and decided to cook something quick and easy for dinner. She got bored sitting around the house on her own after that, and decided that if she was going to be that bored, she may as well be bored at the coffee shop near Veronica's house. She picked up her copy of _Vocal Performance Technique_ and stuck it in the pocket of her jacket.

She'd seen the coffee place before, but never been inside. The sign on the door boasted opening hours of 5:00am until midnight. Inside it was warm and not overly busy. Santana gave her order to a guy behind the counter, and received a coffee that was pretty damn good. Not as good as Charlotte would make her, but close. She sat at a table just off the left of the counter and pulled the book from her pocket. It wasn't mandatory reading, per se, but Shelby had recommended it as well as Alison, so she figured it definitely couldn't hurt.

Her phone vibrated after a while. It was Veronica, running late, and swearing to be there as soon as she could. She immediately composed a text back implying that there could only be one very specific reason why she was late, and looked up. The flow of customers had definitely slowed down. One of the guys behind the counter had ventured out and was cleaning a few of the tables. He stopped as he got to Santana's table.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked.

"I'd love another coffee," she said. "Black, no sugar." She dug some money from her purse and waited for her drink. The guy put it in front of her and continued his walk around. The door opened and someone walked in that the coffee shop workers knew, because they seemed happy to see her.

"Beginning to wonder when we'd see you," the one still behind the counter said. Santana looked up from her book and saw a young woman in a thick jacket that said Mass Gen on the arm patch and hospital scrub pants.

"You know me, Christian, if I'm working, you will see me at least once," she said. The voice was low and held a little drawl like the owner had been from down South years ago.

"Just yours?"

"No, I'll also get two skim lattes and a soy cap with an extra shot," she said, grimacing. "And yes I know how you feel about soy." Santana watched her from behind the safety of her book. She was tall, and her blonde hair was thrown back in a casual knot at the base of her neck.

"Busy night?" the guy asked as he began the order.

"Always," the girl said. "I've been on for ten hours, and because someone else called in sick, I have six to go."

"Can they even do that?"

"Sure they can," she replied. "I'm still technically a student, and besides, I'm not going to turn the overtime down." She looked around the coffee shop with an air of familiarity. Santana didn't even realize she was still staring at the girl until their eyes met. The girl raised an eyebrow at her, and Santana blushed and looked back down to her book.

She felt uneasy, but not in an unpleasant way. She waited a few moments and looked back up. The girl was looking directly at her. The eyebrow was still raised slightly, and she was smiling a little. Santana looked away again, a warm feeling spreading through her chest, but not before registering the girl had nice eyes. She controlled her blush this time, and succeeded in not being caught staring at her a third time.

The guy behind the machine finished with the drinks and handed them over to the girl. She made her way back toward the door, and the guy cleaning tables walked over to open the door for her. Santana involuntarily looked back up and saw her chatting to the guy at the door. He pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck and she waited to cross the street back to the hospital.

The guy came back in and deposited a fist full of empty mugs on the counter, and the door opened again. Veronica came in and ordered her coffee, before sitting down with Santana. She shrugged her coat off.

"Sorry," she said.

"That's fine, I was reading," Santana said, gesturing to the book.

"Any good?"

"So far, yeah. Alison and Shelby both said it was worth reading." The guy brought over Veronica's coffee and a cupcake.

"That's not mine," Veronica said. "Just the coffee."

"It's a gift," he said. "I was instructed to deliver it to, quote, the cute brunette to the left of the counter." He winked and left the plate, cleaning the tables nearby. Veronica eyeballed Santana, who was blushing again, until she broke.

"What?" she said innocently.

"And how, exactly, did you score a free cupcake, and from whom?" she said.

"There was a girl in here just before you walked in. She caught me staring at her."

"Yeah, but you got a free cupcake," Veronica said. "So, what, you have a spark with mystery lady?"

"Oh, come on, Veronica, as if I'm ever going to see her again," Santana scoffed.

"Actually," the guy said quietly as he walked back to the counter, "she's in here almost every day, between five and ten." Veronica shot a look at Santana, which she matched with a stare of her own.

"Anyway," Veronica said, taking the hint, "This song I want you to sing. I brought you a copy, but I also put a different arrangement on there. The cover, I think, is kick ass, and you would so smash it out of the park."

"Thanks, V. I'll listen to it, and we'll see."

"If you want to do it, I'll play for you."

"What are you going to sing?" Santana asked.

"I haven't decided," Veronica replied. "I'm leaning toward one of my favorite songs by a band back home. I'll come up with something."

"And how's Charlotte?"

"She's good," Veronica said. "I know you think I'm late because we were off fooling around or whatever, but she was working and I got caught in cross city traffic. So, mind out of the gutter." Santana laughed. "Are you going to come back and see mystery baked goods lady? What do you know about her anyway?"

"Um, she's blonde, she works at the hospital, and she has pretty eyes," Santana said.

"Oh, so there _was _a spark." Santana just shrugged.

"I dunno, V." They got back around to talking about school, and performances, until Veronica caught the time.

"Jesus, it's after eleven," she said. "Morning is going to be a nightmare."

"It's always a nightmare for you," Santana joked. "But you're right, I should probably head home." They got up and separated at the front door, Santana driving back to her place and getting inside as soon as possible. Once the sun went down it got pretty chilly now. She kicked her flats off and changed into her pajamas before pulling her laptop over to herself in bed.

The disk Veronica had her messy handwriting on it. It said _The Missy Higgins version, k? _She put it into her laptop and found that it had three files on it. All three were called _Heart's A Mess._ One was a copy of some sheet music. She hit play. The first version was a guy singing, and it was a good song. She brought up the sheet music so she could read the lyrics. The cover version began next, a woman singing to a piano only accompaniment. She clicked the 'Repeat Track' button and listened to it a few times. She really liked this version. She made a mental note to listen to it again in the morning when she wasn't so tired, and flicked the lamp off so she could sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

_Ok, I got a lot of reviews & PMs from the last few chapters, and I should point out a few things. Quinntana is still endgame. New girl serves a few purposes, so just bear with me. And for the delightful question regarding who I thought cupcake girl would like, the answer is Rachael Taylor. I once saw her in an airport lounge, and I swear to god, she is a thousand times better looking in person, if that's at all possible. (She's also very gracious and friendly.) Just don't even._

_I also should mention that I set up a twitter account to answer some more of these types of questions, instead of writing a super long note at the start of my chapters. Details in my profile! Add me or whatever, I'm new to Twitter. Or you can email me. I don't mind, I'm a chatty type._

* * *

Santana avoided the coffee shop for four whole days, for a number of reasons. Firstly, she was busy working on her piece for class. Veronica recorded a piano-only version of the song, but they'd also gotten together to work on it during the week a few times. Secondly, she had pretty much talked herself into believing that it was all in her head. It was one cupcake, after all. And lastly, she was a little nervous. Because it was one cupcake right now, but what if it was more? Because there had been a little something stirring in her when they'd locked eyes for all of a few seconds – the something that had been missing with Tori.

Friday's class went well. They'd all performed onstage for the juniors that would become their mentors. Veronica had chosen a song called _Sail The Wildest Stretch_ that she had told Santana she liked because she'd seen the band live with the first girl she'd loved. Santana had sung her guts out on _Heart's A Mess_, two of the juniors in the front row had abandoned their note taking to watch her mid-performance.

After class had finished, Veronica had begged off dinner with Santana to see Charlotte, who was working Saturday and had indicated that all day Sunday she'd be cramming for a test. Santana was happy to let her go. Then she decided she may as well put it all out there and go back to the coffee shop, to satisfy her own curiosity.

She went in and saw the same two guys inside, one behind the coffee machine, one behind the register. She ordered a tall black and the guy behind the counter smiled as he recognized her.

"I thought we might see you sometime soon," he said. Santana blushed a little. "She hasn't been in yet today." Santana just paid him for the coffee and took it to a table. She pulled her book out and picked up where she left off. When the coffee was gone, she got up to order another one. Then a thought struck her.

"Um, I don't really know if this is something you do, but can I pay for the blonde's coffee? I mean, you said she normally comes in…" Santana said.

"Of course," the guy said.

"Actually, I'll just leave a twenty," she said. "Keep the coffee coming."

"Twenty will keep you up all night," he said. "Want a bagel?"

"Actually, yeah," Santana said.

"I'll bring it out with the coffee," he said. She went back to her table and sank down into the chair, and picked up her book again. The guy delivered her order just as her phone began to ring. It was Quinn.

"Hey, Q," she said. "What's up in New Haven?"

"Not much," she said. "I just figured it's Friday night, hadn't talked to you in a few days… What's up with you?"

"I am sitting in a coffee shop reading a book on vocal performance," she said. "Thrilling Friday night. I clearly know how to party."

"Are you guys at Charlotte's coffee place?"

"No, it's just me," Santana said. "And Charlotte and V are on a date or something so I'm at a coffee shop by the hospital."

"Kinda far away when there's one half a block from your place," Quinn said.

"Yeah," Santana said. "But this one has a blonde girl who sent me a cupcake one time."

"Oh?" Quinn said. "What's her name?"

"I don't know," Santana said. "That's why I'm here. It's probably nothing, but apparently she comes in here all the time, so I thought, you know, why not?"

"Spark?"

"I guess we'll find out," Santana said. "So, should I road trip soon?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "That'd be great. But let me check everyone's calendars first, we have exams soon, the girls might be in full blown study mode."

"You have exams coming up?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I think I'm pretty well prepared. But you know, I just have to stay on top of it, I guess."

"Super brain like you, I'm sure you'll nail them all." The door to the coffee shop opened and the blonde girl walked in. Minus the Mass Gen jacket, but with a grey hoodie over the scrubs.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Anyway, I just wanted to call and check in. Call me Sunday?" The blonde girl was tugging some money from the pocket of her hoodie.

"Sure," Santana replied. The guy behind the counter waved her money away, and pointed to Santana. "Talk to you then." The blonde looked over at her and raised her eyebrow again. She began to walk over, and Santana hung up the phone. The blonde stopped at the chair opposite Santana. Santana nudged the chair out with her foot. The blonde put her hand on the back of the chair for a moment, but sat down.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Santana replied.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said.

"Thanks for the cupcake." The blonde just nodded a few times.

"I'm Georgia," she said. "Cochran."

"Santana Lopez," Santana replied. "You work at the hospital?"

"Final year of my nursing degree," Georgia said. "What about you?"

"I go to Berklee," Santana said. The guy brought her coffee over. "Do you have to go back?"

"I have a few minutes," she said. "They owe me, like, a million untaken breaks." She smiled, and Santana was again struck by how pretty her eyes were. She looked like she smiled a lot.

"Well, that's very fortunate for me," Santana said.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Georgia said.

"I don't normally come here," Santana said. "I live by the college, but a friend of mine lives nearby."

"Ah, so you've come all this way just to see me," the blonde teased. Santana met her eyes.

"Maybe I just really liked that cupcake." Georgia laughed.

"They are pretty good, aren't they?" Santana smiled.

"So, your accent. Where are you from?"

"I've been in Boston for nine years," she said. "But Mississippi. Before that. Are you from Boston?"

"Ohio," Santana said. "But I love it here." Georgia checked her watch.

"I have to say, Santana, I'm glad I ran into you."

"Me too," Santana said.

"I know we don't know each other," Georgia said, "But I'd like to run into you again. You know, not on accident."

"I'd like that."

"Monday?" Georgia said. "Here, say, around six thirty?"

"I'll be here." Georgia smiled. She got up and left the coffee shop. Santana sat back in her chair. That had gone better than she expected. She really wanted to call Quinn and fill her in on the entire exchange, but she felt like Quinn had been a bit weird since her visit to Boston. She decided she might wait until Sunday to tell her.

Veronica, however, she filled in the next morning over breakfast. They were at the place where Charlotte worked, and Santana was relaying everything that had gone on the night before.

"So this Georgia, she's got a little something that you want in on?"

"Uh, she's cute and she's made me blush more than anyone in the past week," Santana said. "So, provided it continues in the same vein, maybe, yeah."

"Describe."

"What?"

"What is she like?" Veronica said plainly.

"What is who like?" Charlotte said, dropping in with a coffee pot.

"Santana met a cute nurse at the coffee shop by my place," Veronica said.

"You're drinking someone else's coffee?" Charlotte said in an accusatory tone. "Oh wait, the place run by the brothers opposite Mass Gen?"

"That's the one," Santana said. "Although I didn't know they were brothers."

"Well, if you aren't drinking my coffee, theirs is good as well," she relented. "But, cute nurse, go on."

"Blonde, little bit of a southern accent, not too tall, pretty eyes, smiles a lot…" she trailed off. Veronica and Charlotte exchanged a look as Charlotte poured more coffee for the both of them.

"Well, you go girl," Charlotte said. She went back to the counter to make some more coffee. Veronica and Santana parted ways around lunchtime so Santana could do some grocery shopping and much needed house cleaning. After she'd bleached and scrubbed her way through the house, she called her parents and spoke to her mother for a while. It was nice to have some down time, all on her own for most of the day, instead of the night.

She woke Sunday morning to the sound of her phone ringing. It was a name she hadn't expected to see in a million years – Rachel Berry. She sat up and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Santana?"

"Rachel?"

"Yeah, how are you?" Rachel said. What followed was a surprisingly pleasant discussion, considering that they weren't exactly the closest of friends. Rachel was doing well at NYADA, Kurt too. She recommended some specific tea concoctions that she used to keep her voice from giving out on her during winter, and asked how Santana's classes were going. Santana filled her in on Berklee, the classes and the people, and by the time they disconnected, Santana felt like they maybe were better friends than she'd originally thought.

Sunday was another lazy day, Veronica and Shannon met her for lunch and they wasted an afternoon watching MTV at Shannon's place. The sun began to go down, and Santana remembered she promised to call Quinn.

"Hey San," Quinn said. "What's new?"

"Not much," she replied, thinking that Quinn sounded a lot perkier today than she had for the rest of their conversations since her visit. She filled Quinn in on her brief exchange with Georgia, and Quinn filled her in on the latest antics in her dorm room. From the sounds of things, Dom and Quinn were a heck of a lot more studious than their dorm-mates. Jess sounded like she never slept, and Emma sounded like she was being dragged along for the ride.

"The part that I feel bad about," Quinn said, "Is that Emma is probably going to be the one that flunks out. She was overwhelmed before she started spending every night out with Jess, now she gets no study done at all."

"Well, at least you and Dom seem to be sensible Yale students, working yourselves to the bone," Santana said. She heard muffled voices coming from the other end.

"Dom says hey," Quinn said.

"Hey back," Santana said. "So, next weekend?"

"I don't have any exams Monday, but Dom and Emma do," Quinn said.

"So, what if I come down and instead of crashing your dorm room, I grab a hotel room instead?" Santana said.

"That's a lot of cash just to come and see me," Quinn said.

"Yeah, but you're my best friend," Santana said. "And we've only seen each other twice all term. I miss you." Quinn was quiet on the end of the line.

"I'm not going to talk you out if it, so if that's what you want…"

"Then I'll see you Friday. Hey, did I tell you we're getting mentors? The junior class is going to be working with us on performances."

"Oh, really? How's yours?"

"Haven't met whoever it is yet. Alison is reviewing their critiques of us over the weekend and assigning us," Santana said.

"Let me know how it goes," Quinn said. "I gotta bail though, Dom wants to hit up the library, and it's Sunday so we can assume Jess and the boys will be around soon."

"Fair enough," Santana said. "Call me during the week sometime."

"Sure," Quinn said. "And San? I miss you, too." She hung up. She had a stack of her books piled up on her bedside table. Dom knocked on her doorframe.

"We good?" she asked. She had her own stack of books.

"Yeah," Quinn said. She grabbed her books, making sure everything of hers of value was in her room since she had no way of pre-screening the people that Jess and Emma would inevitably drag in to the dorm that night. She grabbed the Berklee sweater Santana had given her, and they set out for the library.

"And how is Santana?" Dominique asked. They hadn't really talked in depth about Santana since a week ago, when Dominique had basically told Quinn she was probably in love with her best friend.

"She's good," Quinn said. "She, uh, met a girl."

"Oh?" Dominique said. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Well, she sounded kind of happy when she was telling me about her, so I guess I'd say I'm happy for her," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Thinking about Santana all week has been seriously distracting," Quinn said. "I think what I need to do is not over think it before I see her next. She'll be down this weekend."

"And how is that going?"

"Well, I can't decide if I love Santana or if I _love_ her, you know? And it's not that she's a girl, although that would be new, but I feel like she just got out of a relationship with our other best friend, and that was pretty hard on her. And saying something before I even know what it is could be really unfair to her. She's happy in Boston, her friends are great, and now there's a nurse…" Quinn said. "They've only really talked once, but she said she thinks there's something there."

"Okay," Dom said simply. "Don't forget, though, you also deserve to be happy."

"Thanks," Quinn said. "God I'm glad you moved in. Can you imagine trying to deal with Jess and Emma on my own?" Dom laughed, and they walked their way toward the library together.


	26. Chapter 26

Santana was looking forward to Monday evening - so much so that she almost wished Monday would hurry the hell up. Despite her impatience, class was good, Alison had assigned them all a mentor and they were meeting them so they could be prepared for next term. Hers was an English guy named Harrison, and he was extremely pleased that he was assigned to Santana.

"Swear to god," he said, "Louisa and I almost came to blows arguing over who should mentor you." Santana was surprised.

"Uh, thanks?" she said.

"No, really. We were watching your performance DVDs, and Lou just stands up and points at the screen, and she's all 'this one's mine!' and I was all 'hell no!'. I knew I'd have to slay her in the critique," he said.

"So Louisa is pissed?"

"Probably," he said. "But I don't care. Now, we've got some time to talk about your stuff, and what I'd like to help you do. Alison says we don't have to stay in here, so let's walk? Coffee?"

"Always," Santana said.

"I'll start by telling you about me," he said, allowing her to leave the room first. "Obviously, I'm Harrison. I'm from Carlisle, in England, also obviously. My music taste is kind of all over the place, and I think that might be why Alison thinks we'd be good together. Kind of the same, I guess. But I do have a soft spot for Motown, because harmonies don't happen like that any more."

"No, they don't," Santana agreed. He stopped by a coffee vending machine, and they waited for two mediocre cups of coffee. He pushed open a side door and they were outside in a tiny courtyard between the buildings and the staff carpark.

"So, Santana, tell me about your singing experience so far," he said. "I've seen it, now I want to hear about it from you." Santana began with glee, talked about her rivalries with Rachel and Mercedes, singing with Shelby and all the tutoring she had over the summer. Harrison made some notes in a notebook as she talked.

"Is there any kind of music that you don't sing much of?" he asked. Santana thought a moment.

"Yeah, probably rock," Santana said. He nodded.

"And that's where we're going to start," he said. He promised to bring some sheet music and recordings to their next lesson, but asked her to listen to as much rock as she could for the next few weeks. She said that was fine, and they talked about artists she should check out until break.

The rest of the day was taken up with a lecture on performance technique. Santana had read the chapters Alison was teaching from in the book she had recommended, so her mind began to wander to her meet-up with Georgia that afternoon. She got a little carried away trying to decide whether she should change clothes before she went out, which led to a mental inventory of her wardrobe. It wasn't until the lights flickered in the auditorium that she snapped back to attention. A deep rumble followed the flicker.

"And that would most likely be the beginning of the storm that has been hanging overhead for the past four days," Alison said drily. She tried to continue, but the rain began an insistent drumming on the roof, and it became hard to hear. She checked her watch and saw that class was due to let out in less than an hour, so she dismissed them all with a smile and promised that tomorrow she'd have a microphone on standby.

Veronica offered Santana a ride to her place – Santana normally walked because it wasn't far, but it was torrential outside and Santana accepted the ride gratefully.

"So you're going to see Georgia this afternoon?"

"Six thirty," Santana said. Veronica shot her a look.

"You like her," she said.

"What I've seen so far," Santana said, "Yeah." She expected Veronica to hassle her at least a little for more information, but she was surprisingly quiet about it. She dropped Santana off curbside, and made her promise to call her later with all the details.

Santana soon realized that she would definitely have to change, because the storm had brought in a chill, and the skirt she was wearing would surely lead to pneumonia or something. She dug through her closet to find some kind of footwear that would hold up against the rain, and ended up pulling out some boots. She made a mental note to buy some proper rain boots that weekend, something cute though, because she didn't do hideous footwear regardless of how practical it was.

She ended up throwing on some jeans and a soft sweater, and remembered at the last second that her mother insisted she purchase an umbrella because, she said, it was one of those things you don't think you need until it's too late. She grabbed it on her way out the door, and drove across to the hospital side of town, light butterflies starting to swarm in her stomach. She'd left early, because she didn't know how easy it would be to find a parking spot in the pouring rain. It was a wise move, because she ended up having to park around the corner and down the street a way. By the time she got to the coffee shop, her feet were freezing. Not wet, just cold as hell. She stuck her umbrella in a tub by the door and greeted the brother behind the counter with a smile. He cut her off as she went to place her order.

"Tall black, no sugar," he said. "I remember."

"That's some pretty good service," Santana said.

"I hope it means you'll be a frequent customer," he said. "I'm Chad, by the way."

"Santana," she replied. "And your brother…"

"Toby is out the back, prepping some turkey for the evening sandwich customers."

"I didn't realize you served food other than baked goods," she said.

"Mainly for the hospital folk," he replied. "You hungry?"

"Maybe later," she said. She took her coffee and sat at a booth to the side of the shop and waited. Georgia was early. She opened the door to the coffee shop, wearing the Mass Gen coat again, hood pulled up over her head. She looked around and saw Santana, and lowered her hood, pushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. She was wearing a giant pair of boots, too big for her feet, Santana guessed. She stopped at the counter to order and made her way over, stripping the huge jacket off before she sat down.

"You're early," Santana said.

"So are you," Georgia replied.

"True, but I wasn't working."

"There was a lull, so I ducked out because the law of the universe would mean that if I waited we'd get some crazy accident come in," Georgia said. "They know where to find me if it gets busy. I'm glad the rain didn't deter you."

"Takes more than some rain to keep me home," Santana said. "Though I think I need to find some better boots. My feet are freezing."

"I stole a paramedic's boots," she said. "They'd been in the break room for ages, and he hasn't been back for a few days. I almost fit these on over my own shoes." Toby appeared with some coffee and a sandwich for Georgia. Santana watched her as she bit into the sandwich. She looked tired, there were dark circles starting to appear under her eyes.

"Long day?" she asked.

"Yeah," Georgia replied. "I'm off at nine, and this is the only thing I've eaten since about eleven. But, hey, that's the job."

"What kind of nurse are you?"

"Well, I'm still a student so I do whatever rotation they have me on. Right now I'm in the trauma center. Next up I have pediatrics, but I'd like to stay in trauma once I've graduated, if I can."

"Really?"

"I'm good in a crisis," she said. "I don't know. What about you? You're at Berklee, but doing what?"

"Vocal performance," Santana said. "I'm a freshman."

"Perhaps I should have asked earlier, but please tell me you're eighteen," Georgia said worriedly. Santana laughed.

"I am," she replied. "I'll be nineteen in January."

"Thank god," Georgia said. "I'm about to turn twenty one, and there's something about seeing a seventeen year old that would feel weird." Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she groaned as it began to beep.

"Duty calls?" Santana asked. Georgia checked the phone.

"Four car pileup, all hands on deck," she read. "Damn. I'm really sorry."

"That's okay," Santana said. Georgia stood up and struggled back into the jacket.

"I just feel bad, asking you to come all the way out here and having to bail so soon," she said. She picked up the remains of her sandwich and coffee.

"Let me walk you over," Santana said. "I have an umbrella." She got up and Georgia offered a wave to Toby and Chad as they left the coffee shop. The rain had not eased off at all, and Santana's boots were doing very little to keep her feet warm.

"So," Santana said, "Is there a chance I can see you another time, say for longer than fifteen minutes?"

"I would really like that," Georgia said. "Starting Wednesday, I'm off for three days. Let's get dinner. I promise I'll wear something other than scrubs, even."

"Let me give you my number," Santana said. Georgia handed her phone over, and Santana entered her number. Georgia's hand closed over the phone, and Santana's fingers as she handed it back. Her heart thudded hard, and Santana prayed she wasn't blushing as their eyes met.

"I'm free after about five every day," she said, a little weakly. Ambulances began screaming past them into the emergency entry, sirens blaring, jolting them out of their private moment.

"Jesus," Georgia said. She chugged the last of her coffee. "I'll call you, I promise."

"Sure. Go, it looks like things are getting crazy," Santana said. She took the empty cup from Georgia and watched as the blonde jogged out into the rain to help unload someone from the back of a waiting ambulance. She stayed there for a few moments, the paramedics, Georgia and two other people in scrubs unloaded the person in the back. Georgia looked up for a split second as they rotated the gurney, and Santana saw a smile flicker across her face. She left and made her way back to the car, running the heater full blast at her feet. She could almost feel them by the time she got home, so decided on a hot shower before she called Veronica.

"That was quick," Veronica said. "Should I be worried?"

"She got called back to work," Santana said. "Crappy weather, car accident. But we're going to have dinner later in the week. I gave her my number."

"Good work," Veronica said. "So, no spark with Tori, but definitely with Georgia?"

"Definitely with Georgia," Santana said. "I could just stare at her all day, first of all."

"Nobody asked for a list, creeper," Veronica said. "Nah, it's cute. Just make sure if it turns into something I get to meet her."

"Of course," Santana said. "Oh, by the way, I'm going to New Haven this weekend."

"No plans with the hot nurse?"

"She's off Wednesday to Friday," Santana said, "Then she's back on. Plus, Q has sounded a little off the past few times I've talked to her, I want to make sure we're cool."

"Stress maybe?" Veronica suggested. "I doubt Yale is an easygoing school."

"Yeah, maybe," Santana said. "She and Dom have some pretty intense roommates."

"Four to a dorm?" Veronica said. "That's almost inhumane."

"Right? Anyway, she and Dom are all studious and whatever, but Jess and Emma basically turn the place into party central, three, four times a week. They hate it."

"So they should just move out together," Veronica said.

"Yeah, but if Dom's on scholarship, she won't be able to afford anywhere that isn't a roach infested hell-hole. And she and Q are pretty tight," Santana explained.

"Whatever," Veronica said. "I'm sure Yale has about sixty five thousand libraries that they could hide in." The talk quickly turned to their vocal mentors, and then Veronica began recommending bands and artists Santana had never heard of for her to check out before they started the next term.

"Alright, San, I gotta go. I'm picking Charlotte up from work. But I'll see you in the morning, yeah?" Veronica said.

"Definitely."

"Oh, and I'm glad you found a cute nurse," Veronica added.

"Me, too."


	27. Chapter 27

Hi everyone.

I know you we're expecting an update, but this is a note to let you know I'm taking a few weeks off.

Those of you who have been reading for a while know that I've been on vacation with my best friend. We've planned for years to take a massive road trip and just drive around to see what we could find. The reason we planned this vacation, well...

Zoe was diagnosed with AML five and a half years ago. She underwent chemo, and went into remission. Twice. We decided to stop planning and just go for it, while we could. Just recently I added in my authors note that I was waiting for her in an emergency room. That day, a doctor told us that her leukemia was back again. And the prognosis wasn't good, because of her quick relapses previously. The next day, we were sitting on the hood of my car eating ice cream before we cut the trip short and drove home and she told me she was done with chemo. Done with hospitals. And said that she was ready to face death, and knew he wouldn't be long in coming for her.

November 27, my amazingly brave best friend succumbed to her illness, surrounded by her family and friends. And even though I knew it was coming, and I knew it was the end of her suffering, it still feels like I've been sucker punched in the face.

So I do need a little time, obviously. But know that I am one hundred percent not finished here. I will be back, but as you might imagine, I'm not feeling entirely creative right now. I'll try and get new stuff up for Christmas.

Again, I'm not done here. Just grieving.

Rachel.


	28. Chapter 28

_Hi everyone. Let me preface this chapter by sincerely thanking the dozens and dozens of people who sent their prayers and best wishes. I received so many beautiful messages, PMs, emails, and it was honestly moving. You're all gorgeous. I'm starting to write a bit more again, and hopefully I may even have a new chapter of The Offbeats up today as well. Again, thank you all, so much. The internet is totally not full of weirdos and creepers, it's full of beautiful, kindhearted people. Now, onwards!_

* * *

Quinn called Santana on Tuesday night to discuss her trip down to Yale that weekend. Dominique had an exam first thing Monday, and Emma had one Monday afternoon. The dorm, much to Jess's dismay, had been declared a study only zone for the entire weekend. Quinn was grateful, because her own exams started Tuesday afternoon.

"So, if you still want to come down and grab a room," Quinn said, "That's cool. But don't feel like I'm making you come down."

"Please, Q, I don't need to be persuaded to come hang out with you," Santana said. "You're always going to be my number one pick."

"What about the nurse?"

"Georgia? Um, she has to work Saturday and Sunday," Santana said. "Plus, we're not exactly dating. We've never even been on a date. You rank above that, Q." There was a pause on the end of the line.

"Do you want me to find a hotel for you?" Quinn said.

"Uh, if you know any good ones. I was just going to google it, as you do."

"I'll email you a couple of good ones and you can pick whatever."

"Sounds good." Santana took a moment. Quinn seemed a little distant again. "You okay, Q?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Why?"

"I dunno," Santana said. "Last few times we've talked you've seemed a little distracted."

"I'm okay," Quinn said. "Just a little tired I guess. Studying all hours of the night. I can't wait til exams are done."

"Yeah," Santana said. "You going home for break?"

"Not planning on it," Quinn said. "I talked to mom, she wants to go visit her sister anyway. Plus, I feel like what's the point of moving out on my own if I run home at the first available opportunity. You?"

"It's not in my plan either," Santana said. "Plus, I have a feeling Veronica is going to try and get me to sing all break long in prep for next term. She keeps listing all these bands and singers I've never heard of that apparently I'll love."

"Expanding your musical horizons?"

"Something like that," Santana said. "Actually, I'll bring you a cd of something I think you'll like."

"What is it?"

"A band called George. It's a brother/sister vocals plus a band. He's really good, but she just blows him out of the water. I've never heard anything like it," Santana said.

"I'll listen to whatever you like," Quinn said. "Because you're the music student, and I'm the English student. Speaking of which, this student needs to study."

"Alright," Santana said. "I'll call you Friday when I leave?"

"Sure," Quinn said. "I'll email you those hotels in the morning."

Santana hung up the phone and looked at it for a moment like it was going to explain to her why Quinn sounded off. She hoped it was just the stress of exams, but she definitely didn't sound like herself.

Quinn was staring at her own phone. She tried to shut her brain up whenever she spoke to Santana, but it kept urging her to analyze every conversation, every word that she was saying, and every word her best friend said back to her. She knew it wasn't fair to Santana to be distant, but she really was having a hard time trying to sort out what her feelings were.

Sometimes she thought that she more just missed having _someone_. But she'd had someones, and none of them understood her like Santana. None of them would listen to her ramble crazy stuff that made no sense, that she didn't even mean half the time, and still have her back like she did.

Then sometimes she wondered what would happen if she was in love with Santana. Her parents had freaked out when she'd gotten knocked up, and she didn't even want to imagine what might happen if her father heard she was dating a girl – not only a girl, but a girl she knew he didn't like much to begin with. Santana was too 'worldly' for him.

Obviously she knew enough to completely discount whatever prejudices her father had drilled into her and her mother over the years. But she could still hear his voice in the back of her mind, inventing cruel taunts and insults. Her father always had a way with words, so much so that he never needed to raise his hand to her. She was petrified of those words, even though he'd been pretty much invisible to her for years.

Then she'd push it all out of her mind, because regardless of whatever her feelings were, there were still no guarantees that Santana would feel the same in the slightest. Especially now that there was a cute blonde nurse on the scene. Considering that she barely knew the girl, Santana really sounded infatuated. That made Quinn uneasy and happy at the same time. Uneasy, because she knew what happened when Santana got into a relationship – when she'd gotten together with Brittany she'd all but disappeared. But she was also happy, because Santana sounded happy, and that mattered a lot.

Quinn sighed and opened her textbook, and then rummaged around in her drawer for a pen. She bit the end of it and bent over the book. The door opened in the living area and a chorus of different voices entered. Quinn groaned. She could hear Jess and Dominique arguing, and knew immediately what the problem was.

"Jesus Christ, can you go one day without turning this dorm into the local hangout?" Dominique was saying. "Some of us actually give a crap about our exams, and having a never ending parade of party guests is not helping."

"Maybe you need to lighten up!" Jess retorted. "Have a little fun with us for a change."

"Not all of us have daddy's trust fund to put us through college, Jess. I need a B average to stay here, and I'm not going to jeopardize that so you can entertain half of whatever frat you've got here."

"Hey, hey," a male voice interrupted. "What are you saying about my girlfriend?"

"I'm saying that she, and you, need to stop treating this place like it's Jess's and the rest of us are furniture. Nate, you've been here every night for almost two weeks, and normally I wouldn't give a damn, but you always have at least two other guys in tow. Just once, I would like to be able to study in relative silence without having to trek halfway across campus to a library."

"What are you even worrying about?" Jess said. "Nobody else cares but you." Quinn stuck her head out of her door.

"Actually I care," Quinn said. "You guys were still going strong at three thirty this morning. And it's not the first time." The three friends of Nate's turned to stare at her.

"Well, we're not going anywhere," Jess said resolutely. Dominique swore violently and headed back to her room. Quinn withdrew her head into her own room, gathered up her study material for the night and knocked on Dom's door.

"Library?" she said.

"I swear to god, I am going to murder her by the end of the semester," Dominique muttered. She slid her laptop, a notebook and two textbooks into her bag, stuck a couple of pens in her pocket. "One god damn night." She stormed out without looking at anyone in the living area. Quinn stood in front of the couches where they were sprawled.

"If you're planning on another late night, at least keep it down," she said. "It's common courtesy. And seriously, try find somewhere else for a few nights. Share the love, alright?" She left, and found Dom waiting outside. They headed toward their regular library, but Nate called out to them before they got very far.

"Quinn! Hey, Quinn!" he jogged over to them. "Look, I'm really sorry. I'll get the guys out early tonight. And I swear, Jess said you guys were cool with us hanging out all the time."

"We'd appreciate that," Quinn replied. Dom didn't say anything. "And we'd also appreciate if you could move your hangouts to another location til exams are over. Dom has an average to maintain, and I would really like to keep mine from taking a dive. Plus, as much as Jess would hate to admit it, if Emma doesn't study at least a little, she's going to flunk out."

"What do you mean?" Nate asked genuinely.

"Emma is failing English101," Quinn said. "I know, I'm in the class. And the way she tells it, she's failing almost everything. And she doesn't have the willpower to tell Jess no, but she probably needs an A to scrape a pass in English, and I suspect it's the same for her other subjects."

"So, I should maybe schedule some one on one dates with Jess so the room is quiet, and so Emma doesn't get dragged along for the ride?"

"That'd work," Quinn said.

"Alright. Deal," he said. "But once exams are over, you and Dom have to promise to come out. There's a huge party on campus after exams are done. Let us show you we're not necessarily bad guys."

"Deal," Quinn said. Dom didn't say anything, but she shrugged a little. Nate smiled at Quinn and went back to the dorm. It was starting to turn cold, and Quinn pulled the hood of her Berklee hoodie up.

"You alright?" she said to Dom.

"Yeah," Dom said. "Nothing new. She does my head in. Same old story."

"It's gotten worse as the term's gone on," Quinn agreed. They walked the rest of the way in relative silence. The student aide on the desk greeted them by name – they were in there as much as he was. They set up in their normal corner and began their study without saying much else.

Santana was laying on her living room floor next to her stereo. She had a cushion under her head and she was listening to some music Veronica had given her. Veronica was a walking encyclopedia of music, and she wasted no time opening Santana up to artists she'd never heard of, Australians mostly. She'd put together a cd of what she called 'classic Australian music' and given it to Santana, not because the vocals were particularly amazing, but because the subject and songwriting could make for great performances.

It was good listening. Veronica had shoved a note in the cd case with the names of the songs and bands. Her untidy handwriting dictated a bunch of facts she deemed pertinent for Santana to know, about the bands and the songwriters.

Her phone buzzed next to her head somewhere, and she groped around for it, seeing a text from Veronica herself.

_Heard from Cute Nurse yet? _Santana rolled her eyes and texted back.

_Georgia. Georgia is working._

_She blowing you off already?_

_She told me she's working til Wednesday. _Her phone rang.

"You believe her?" Veronica said. She didn't offer a greeting and Santana didn't expect one.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?" Santana said. "Way to be supportive, V."

"You know I'm just messing with you, right?" she said. "But you're probably laying around just thinking about her, am I right?"

"No, you're not," Santana said matter of factly. "I'm laying here listening to one of the cds you gave me."

"Which one?"

"This one has…" Santana grabbed the note paper and read it. "Crowded House, The Church-"

"Man, that is a good cd," Veronica said. "How good is Under The Milky Way Tonight?"

"Yeah, that is pretty good actually. And I dug that Nick Cave guy. Oh, and Megan Washington," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Charlotte's working so I'm just kicking. Wanna get coffee?" she asked. "It's only what, eight thirty?"

"Yeah, okay," Santana said. "Are we stalking Charlotte?"

"Nope. We're going to stalk Georgia instead."

"Georgia is working, I thought we covered that."

"But she might grab coffee at some point. And it won't seem creepy stalkerish, because I live around the corner. Come on, you can barely get a description of this nurse out without trailing off and smiling like a goon, so I need to see what she looks like," Veronica said. "I'll meet you there."

"Fine," Santana said. "Fifteen minutes."

She tossed the Yale hoodie Quinn had given her on over her tee and jeans, and jammed a hat on so she didn't have to worry about doing her hair again. By the time she got to the coffee place, Veronica was inside sitting down. She went to the counter and ordered.

"How are you this evening?" Toby said.

"Pretty good," Santana said. "Has that girl over there ordered?" She pointed at Veronica.

"No," he said. "She was waiting… for you?" He gave her a weird look, and Santana realized how it looked from his point of view.

"And now it seems like I cruise coffee places and pick up girls," she said. "Veronica and I go to school together. She's seeing someone, and she's not my type. She'll have the same as me."

"Good," Toby said. "Georgia's almost like family to me and Chad now. And she likes you."

"That's good to hear," Santana said. "I like her, too. One of these days we'll see each other for something longer than coffee."

"And she hasn't been in yet tonight, so if she comes in, I'll send her over to say hello," he replied. "I'll bring your coffees over." Santana thanked him and dropped into the booth opposite Veronica.

"So," Veronica said. "One and a bit more weeks of this before we get to take a break. Are you going back to Ohio?"

"I hadn't planned to," Santana said. "I'll go back over Christmas. I'll be around. Maybe shoot down and see Q, or she might come here, I don't know." Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out.

_Stalking me? _

She looked around and saw Georgia at the counter. Veronica followed her eyes, noted the smile on Santana's face.

"Santana you said it was a cute nurse, not an insanely hot nurse," Veronica teased. Georgia came over, smiling.

"I told you," Santana said to her, "I just really like the cupcakes here."

"And I might have believed that if there were a cupcake, or evidence of one, on the table," Georgia replied. "So I can only assume you're here to see me."

"Georgia, this is Veronica. We go to school together. Veronica, Georgia." The two girls greeted each other.

"I can't stay," Georgia said. "Doing the coffee run. Full house tonight. But I'll call you sometime tomorrow?" Santana nodded and Chad brought out some cardboard trays with coffee. He held the door for Georgia, and she disappeared.

"Seriously, Santana, you need to reevaluate the meaning of the word cute," Veronica said. "That was not cute." Santana just tossed a crumpled up napkin at her and grinned.


	29. Chapter 29

_OK so this chapter is a little shorter, but the next one is all Quinntana in New Haven. So, let us roll on!_

* * *

Santana was reading under a throw rug on her couch the next afternoon. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, so she turned the corner of her page down in the book and picked it up.

"Good morning," came an unmistakable voice. Georgia.

"It's four-thirty in the afternoon," Santana said.

"Yeah, but I got home at five this morning and only just made it out of bed," Georgia said. "So morning it is. What are your plans tomorrow night?"

"Nothing so far," Santana said.

"Let me take you out," Georgia said. "We'll grab dinner, see what's going on after that."

"I'd like that," Santana said.

"Do you eat Thai food?"

"Sure do."

"There's a place I like, I'll text you the address," Georgia said. "Anyway, you know how I spent my day. How was yours?"

"It was a day. Theory classes."

"Theory about performance seems kind of like an oxymoron."

"No, it's good stuff," Santana said. "Alison is a pretty good teacher."

"You know, I'd love to hear you sing sometime," Georgia said.

"We normally do karaoke on Fridays at The Dive," Santana said. "But not this Friday, I'm driving to New Haven to see my best friend Quinn."

"Ah, the Yale hoodie?" Santana recalled that yes, she was wearing that hoodie last night.

"Yeah, it was a present. And she has a Berklee one. She's a bit out of it, they have exams next week. So, duty calls."

"De-stress?" Georgia said.

"Precisely."

"Though I'm glad you're not doing karaoke this Friday night, because I'd come, and then I'd be out way too late to start at five am on Saturday. Some other time though."

"Who knows, I might even convince you to sing," Santana said.

"Not in a million years. My singing is limited to housework and road trips," Georgia stated. "I should probably have something to eat. I'll text you about tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it," Santana said. Georgia hung up and Santana picked her book back up.

She found it hard to be completely engaged the next day in class. Fortunately they were watching clips of performances, so she only really had to keep her eyes open to appear like she was paying attention. Her phone vibrated somewhere in the middle of the last session for the day, and it was Georgia with directions to the Thai place she liked. She must have broken out in a grin of some kind, because when she looked up, Veronica was arching an eyebrow at her, smirking.

She managed to escape Veronica that afternoon with only a little teasing, and a promise to rehash the date the next morning over coffee. Santana was more nervous than she'd admitted to anyone out loud. She'd never actually _dated_ a girl before. She and Brittany had just sort of happened, and then they carried on as they always had. Hanging out, movies, shopping, making out…

This felt different somehow. She knew very little about Georgia, mainly

just that she was gorgeous enough to stop her brain working a little and that she liked to look people straight in the eyes when she talked to them. She jumped in the shower, and got out to find a text on her phone.

_Wear something warm and maybe bring a scarf._

Santana texted back to let her know that she'd gotten the message, and began the age old debate of what to wear. She went through about half of her wardrobe and finally settled on an outfit.

She made it to the restaurant a few minutes before six thirty, but Georgia was already inside. Santana was amazed at how big a difference it made seeing her out of scrubs. The waiter showed her to the table and Georgia welcomed her with a smile.

"Hey," she said simply. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm glad you called. But why the scarf?"

"That depends. Do you like surprises?"

"Considering we don't know much about each other, I'm hoping the surprise isn't that you're a serial killer," Santana joked. Georgia smiled.

"Not quite. The waterfront fair is on. I figured we might go eat cotton candy, watch a bunch of kids run around like crazies and walk under a bunch of trees lit up with fairy lights," Georgia said. "I'm assuming you've never been, first year in Boston and all."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Santana said. They ordered food to share and talked as they ate. They covered all the basics, hometowns, schools, families. The more Georgia talked, the more Santana could pick out the Mississippi in her voice. It was nice to hear – in Lima, everyone sounded like they came from Lima. But she'd been in Boston a little while now, and she still wasn't so used to hearing different accents all the time. Just another reason why she was glad to be out of Ohio.

When the last of the plates had been cleared away, Georgia suggested they walk toward the waterfront park. They got up, and Georgia paid the bill, despite Santana's insistence that they split it.

"Relax, Santana," she said. "You can buy the cotton candy."

"We're really going to eat cotton candy?"

"Uh, yes. Isn't there some kind of rule about that at fairs?" Georgia said. They stopped at her car so she could pull out a scarf and beanie; the wind chill had dropped the temperature a fair bit. They stopped at Santana's up the street a few more car spaces so she could do the same.

"There probably is," she mused. "Tell you what, I'll even throw in a cup of coffee."

"That's a good idea, I think by the time we get there my hands are going to be frozen off," Georgia said. It wasn't that far away from the restaurant, really, and they could smell the fair before they saw it. Deep fried goods, popcorn, and rotisserie meat, laced with that unmistakably sugary smell of cotton candy. The trees down the path were strung with twinkling lights, and it made for a nice walk.

The first concession stand they came to was a coffee stand, and Santana bought two large coffees straight away, both of them wrapping their cold hands around the cups. Not really having a plan, they wandered through the crowd of kids running around, parents chasing the kids, teenage boys trying to impress their girlfriends, and groups of school kids hanging out.

Georgia won a stuffed snake shooting hoops at a sideshow, and promptly named him LeBron. She offered it to Santana, who said that it was sweet but she wasn't a huge fan of snakes, stuffed or real. Georgia winked and tucked it under her arm, promising she'd deliver it to the pediatric unit the next time she was at work.

A herd of middle school kids swarmed past, and Santana was almost knocked off of her feet. Georgia grabbed her wrist to stop her colliding with a pair of pink-cheeked children, and once they'd passed by she didn't let go, sliding her hand into Santana's.

"They have cotton candy," Georgia pointed out. It was true, they had gigantic clouds of spun sugar, colored like rainbows. Santana rolled her eyes and they angled toward the cotton candy stand.

"Just one," she said to the guy. He handed it to Georgia, whose eyes lit up, not unlike the children eyeing their own fluffy clouds. They walked on.

"Do you want some?" she said to Santana.

"No, thanks," Santana said. "Maybe later."

"I'm not promising there's going to be any left," Georgia said, plucking a clump off and sticking it in her mouth. "God, I love this stuff to the point that it's almost wrong. I mean, it's sugar, artificial coloring, and added sugar."

"I'm more of an ice-cream junkie, if we're talking sweets," Santana said. "Or cupcakes."

"So that's how I managed to catch your attention," Georgia said, eating more of the cotton candy.

"Oh, if I recall that day correctly, you had my attention well before the cupcake," Santana responded.

"That's true." Georgia finished off the cotton candy and immediately reclaimed Santana's hand. Santana was very aware of their interlocking fingers. They wandered a bit further down and found themselves directly on the waterfront. There were paddleboats roaming around freely, and people scattered along the pier.

"Boston is gorgeous," Santana sighed. "Ohio is like, farm, farm, football field, farm, Dairy Queen, farm."

"I love it here too," Georgia said. "I mean, Mississippi has its moments, but not like this. I mean, here we are in the freezing cold and normally I'd just be bitching about how cold it is."

"Right? Like, my hands are a bit cold, but I don't care a great deal," Santana said.

"Not just me then," Georgia said. "I half want to buy another cup of coffee. Next time, we should wear gloves. I'm surprised our hands aren't blue." She held them up, as if she was inspecting them. Santana just tugged their hands back down. Georgia tugged back and pulled Santana toward her, and before she knew what was happening, Georgia's lips were on hers.

It was just a moment, and just a soft brush of Georgia's lips against hers. But Santana's heart hammered nonetheless, remembering that being kissed by a pretty girl was awesome. She pulled back a fraction and saw Georgia's eyes twinkling at her.

Santana kissed her this time, a little more insistently, and she felt one of Georgia's hands in her hair. She let her hands settle on the blonde's hips, and they stayed intertwined until they were interrupted by catcalls from a group of guys walking past the paddleboat station.

"Assholes," Georgia murmured as they pulled apart. She was still smiling slightly. "Come on, let's cram another coffee in before we call it a night." They swung past a different coffee stand and picked up another round, drinking them on the walk back to their respective cars. They got to Santana's first.

"What time are you going to New Haven tomorrow?"

"Depends on when we get out of class. It only takes about two hours if the traffic is good."

"Will you have time to squeeze in a cup of coffee?"

"I'll make time," she said. "There's a place right next to Berklee's main entrance. I'll text you when I get an idea of what time I'll be out?"

"Sure," Georgia said. "I'm glad we did this. I had fun."

"So did I," Santana said. Georgia brushed another kiss against her lips, and closed the door as Santana got in to the car. Santana drove home and kicked off her shoes. She ignored the blinking light on her answering machine – probably Veronica – and changed into her pajamas, getting straight into bed. Her feet were numb, and her hands were still cold, even though she'd cranked the heat up in the car.

Georgia's lips had been warm, Santana recalled. It was the last thing she thought before she fell asleep, a smile playing across her lips.


	30. Chapter 30

_And now we get to the business end of things. Two chapters at once, ready? Go!_

* * *

Quinn was attempting not to let on to Santana how she felt about the girls' incessant gushing about her date and follow-up coffee with the blonde nurse. Santana had gotten in to town earlier that evening, and so far they'd covered precisely one topic of conversation.

She thought that maybe she should be being more supportive, but she couldn't really see how she'd be able to do that without seeming insincere, so she was settling for passive silence. She was watching Santana talk, rather than listen, and even though she knew the girl was talking about her date, she was thinking about how beautiful she looked right now.

The worst thing Cheerios ever did to any of them was force them to wear their hair tied back tightly every day. Santana's hair out was something else all together – the kind of gorgeous curls people paid serious money to get. She hadn't done anything special to it, Quinn guessed, just not tied it back as it was drying after her morning shower.

She was also realizing, or maybe re-realizing, that her dimples were adorable. And right after she was thinking that, she realized that Dom, Veronica, Tori, Charlotte, they'd all been right. She was in love with Santana, for real, because there was no other reasonable explanation as to why she would need to be internally dialoguing about Santana's god damn dimples for a good twenty minutes, when she was chattering about another girl, especially.

Of course, Georgia was a bit of a problem, and Quinn hated to think that she would be that girl – the one who breaks up a perfectly good relationship for her own gain. But it wasn't really a relationship, was it? They'd only been out on one date, plus coffee. Surely that was too quick to be exclusive. She would have to think about that.

"Quinn?" Santana was saying. "Earth to Q. Did I lose you?" She realized Santana had been talking to her directly.

"Sorry, San. What?"

"I said what do you feel like for dinner? I'm starving," she repeated. "You alright?"

"Just thinking," Quinn said.

"If you're worried about your exams, I reckon you've got nothing to worry about. You've always been one of the smartest people I've ever met, and you've been studying your ass off," Santana said. "But if you need to hit some books, I'm cool with that." Even though she'd been thinking about nothing remotely close to exams, the support was touching.

"Santana, I'm not going to ignore you to study after you came all the way down here and paid for a hotel room."

"Yeah, but this is Yale, Q, it's important. Plus I brought a couple of books, I could always read some, or watch you study, listen to music..."

"Watch me study? That sounds creepy." She paused. "Pizza."

"What?"

"Let's get pizza," Quinn said. "Cheesy, carby, delicious pizza. There's a really good pizza place a few blocks over." They rugged up - it seemed the oncoming winter chill had also made its way to New Haven and got into Santana's car. Quinn pointed out the turns, and they made their way to the restaurant.

It was warmer inside, and they pulled off their coats as a middle aged man showed them to a table. This was clearly a decent place to hang out on Fridays, the restaurant was almost full of students.

"You're looking good, Q," Santana said as they waited for their cokes and starters. "New Haven agrees with you."

"What do you mean?" Quinn said, flushing pink.

"I mean, I told you I liked your hair short, but I don't know you look – a bit older? Relaxed? Happy?"

"I'm probably more relaxed and happy, yeah," Quinn admitted. "Helps not having mom all over me. That came out wrong, though. She wasn't all over me, I just didn't really like home so much, you know? Mom, I love her, but that house still feels like my dad. He's not even there, but it's like I could feel him still."

"Have you heard from your dad lately?" Santana asked.

"He sent me a card when I graduated. I think it said something along the lines of 'well done, work hard, I signed off on your trust, from dad." She shook her head. "If I'm being honest, I still feel like a disappointment to him. I know it's stupid, but…"

"Stupid is for families," Santana said. "I know what you mean, though. If abuela changed her mind and wanted to see me, I'd be there in a heartbeat. She knows where I am though, so all I can do is wait."

"The problem is, I know that what he expects is not what I am," Quinn said. Santana sat back, assessing the fact that the conversation had taken a fairly serious turn.

"But what you are is what you are, Quinn. Trust me, no point in squeezing into a circle when you're a triangle," she said. The waiter delivered a wooden board with cheesy garlic bread and their cokes. "Seriously, Q, are you okay?"

"I've just been thinking too much," Quinn said. "Bloody psych 101. I just don't like the idea of everyone seeing me one way, when I'm clearly another."

"You're pretty amazing, whatever way people want to look at it," Santana said. "Seriously, the amount of crap you've gone through, and here you are, still a hot bitch, smart as hell, taking Yale on. Stronger than I would have been for sure. And anyone who doesn't love you for that, well they can kiss my well-toned ass." She picked up some garlic bread and bit into it.

"And anyway," Santana added, "Aren't these the years when we're supposed to figure all that out? We're eighteen, Q, we have time."

"How is it that you know how to make me feel better that quickly?" Quinn asked, picking her own piece up.

"Simple, Q. Nobody knows you quite like I do." It was just a statement, offhand, but Quinn felt the implication of it settle on her chest. It was true obviously, but there was still this part of herself that Santana had no idea about, and that was the part that she was worried about.

"Just like nobody knows me like you do," Santana added. "And that's enough, isn't it?"

"For me it is," Quinn said.

"How's Dom?" Santana asked. "She murdered Jess yet?"

"Not quite," Quinn laughed, happy to steer the conversation in a different direction. "But she was saying the other day that it might be worth killing her, because they'd lock her up in a quiet room where she'd actually get some study done." Santana laughed, and Quinn filled her in on the latest antics of the girls in her dorm.

After they'd eaten their way through some seriously good pizza, they drove back to the hotel room. It was too late to go back out, and too early to call it a night, so they settled for watching a couple of episodes of Project Runway in the hotel room. Santana had told Quinn she may as well just crash in the room with her, since Jess was being such an asshole. They changed into pajamas and Quinn flopped down on the bed as Santana stretched out on the floor, and began literally stretching.

"You know, since I left Lima, I don't think I've done any real exercise apart from stretching my body out," Santana mused. "Cheerios at least kept us in great shape. You?"

"Nope," Quinn said. "Dom's asked me if I want to run with her a couple of times, maybe I should take her up on that."

"Maybe I should at least start running again. I'll see if I convince Veronica to go with me. That'd be hilarious." She finished stretching and climbed on to the bed next to Quinn.

Quinn had underestimated how weird it would feel sharing a bed with Santana now that she realized she loved her. She was too afraid to fall asleep, in case she subconsciously mauled her or something while she was sleeping. After Santana had fallen asleep, she'd lain awake for a long time, slightly turned toward her best friend, trying to figure out exactly when she'd fallen in love with her.

They spent Saturday wandering around parts of New Haven Santana hadn't seen yet, Quinn reservedly following Santana and mentally keeping herself in line. Dom joined them for dinner, starting out by saying that she was going to pretend Jess didn't exist for a couple of hours, and promptly turning into a much happier, engaging person than Quinn had seen in weeks. Santana excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Dom seized the opportunity.

"You're quiet, Quinn."

"Yeah," she said. Dom looked at her expectantly. "I'm in love with her. I am."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"That, I haven't decided. But I can't keep going like this. I was too terrified to sleep in the bed next to her last night just in case. And sooner or later she's going to catch me staring at her."

"And it's written all over your face," Dom said. "Look, I get that you don't want to ruin whatever it is she has with that nurse, but dude, you have to say something."

"I will," Quinn said. "I just have to put it all together." Santana was coming back to the table, so they changed the conversation to their exam timetable.

"I managed to have two days this week where I have two exams," Quinn moaned.

"Yeah, but I have a Sunday exam. What the hell is that? You're off Thursday and Friday at least."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "But I have a tutorial group all day Sunday, last day before break. Hey San, when do your classes finish?"

"Um, as soon as our performances do," Santana said. "Alison reckons Thursday lunch time is reasonable."

"Well, how about I come up to Boston then? I'll come up Thursday morning, and leave Saturday," Quinn said.

"Book it in, Q," Santana grinned. "Karaoke Friday, here we come. Dom, are you going home over break?"

"Nah, I'll be camped out anywhere except in the dorm," Dom said. "Although I think Jess said something about Mexico, so here's hoping she won't be there."

"God that'd be like heaven," Quinn said. They finished dinner and decided to catch a movie, Dom departing to do some last minute biochem revision.

Quinn remembered paying for the movie tickets, and she remembered being handed a Diet Coke and a package of Skittles, but she had no idea what movie they saw. All she could think about was how close she was sitting to Santana in a darkened theater. She almost had heart failure when Santana raised the arm of the chair between them, so she could bring a foot up and tuck it under herself. It unintentionally spread her out, and Quinn could only feel the few square inches where their legs were touching.

She mentally berated herself for thinking like a stupid teenager and closed her eyes. It was only a few moments before she felt Santana's knee nudging her.

"Q? You finding this as boring as I am?" she said, barely bothering to lower her voice.

"Yeah," Quinn said.

"Let's go get ice cream or something then," Santana said. "If I stay here, I'm going to fall asleep." They got up and left, drawing a few critical glares from moviegoers who felt they were clearly more cultured than the two of them.

They hit up a Baskin Robbins and ate their ice cream while wandering back to the car. Santana turned up the heat and held her hands in front of the vent.

"Quinn, you're supposed to be the smart, rational one. Why'd you let me eat ice cream and freeze my god damn hands solid?" she said. "And yours have got to be worse, your circulation sucks." She grabbed Quinn's hand.

"Q, that's just wrong, here," she took both of Quinn's hands and held them in front of the vent. "I don't know how you do it."

"I guess I'm used to it," Quinn mumbled. "It's useful in summer though." Santana kicked the engine over and drove them back to the hotel, where they changed and got into bed. Quinn's feet were cold, and Santana tangled them in with her own to keep them warm. Quinn just thanked god it was dark and Santana couldn't see how violently red she was blushing.

Half of her wanted to roll over and kiss her, and the other half wanted to run from the room and back to the dorm. She knew she was in a world of trouble, and the prospect of laying next to her best friend all night was not helping in the slightest. She knew that sooner rather than later, she was going to have to come clean with Santana and tell her exactly how she felt. Santana's breathing evened out, and Quinn let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. It was going to be a long night.

The next morning, Santana shot a look over at Quinn, who was staring resolutely out the window. Ever since the two of them had gotten up, things had been weird. Again. Santana had felt like they'd been back to normal for a while this weekend, but now… She didn't really know what had happened. Maybe it was going to be one of those periods where they fell out for a while. She hoped not, because not having Quinn would throw everything out of whack.

Quinn was deeply embarrassed. When she'd woken in the morning, her feet were tangled with Santana's still, and more. Her legs. And her arm was slung across Santana's waist. She'd frozen in place for a few minutes and tried to figure out how best to extricate herself without waking her bedmate. She'd just decided to shift her arm outside the blanket when Santana had basically snuggled in to her side, still very much asleep.

Quinn could feel Santana's breath on her shoulder. She waited for a beat, and realized that this was how it could be for them. They could be wrapped in each other just like this, and Quinn wouldn't have to feel bad about the fact that Santana had another girl waiting back home. But first, she'd have to figure out how to say it out loud.

_Santana, I'm in love with you._

But then Santana had stirred, and Quinn was reminded that Santana _did_ have a girl back home, and she immediately hated herself. She threw the idea of carefully entangling herself out the window and bolted for the bathroom, where she ran the shower, got in and sat on the floor until she stopped crying.

Santana was little more than semi-conscious when the whole thing transpired, but she picked up on Quinn's mood well enough to realize things were awkward. She just wished she could do something. She parked at Quinn's dorm, and walked her back to the room.

"It's quiet," Santana said. "Jess mustn't be here." Quinn smiled despite her awkwardness. She went to open the door, but Santana stopped her by tugging on her hand.

"Q?" She said. "Look, I don't know what's going on here. But I had fun this weekend. And if you're stressing about exams, I hope you remember that I believe in you. And if it's something else, well, I'm ready to listen whenever you need me. Because you're number one on my list, Q. I need you to be okay so I'm okay. So, if you need, call." Quinn didn't say anything, she just looked to the ground. "Okay. I'll uh, call you when I get home." She let Quinn's hand go, and ran her hand through her hair. Quinn bit her lip for a moment, and then hugged Santana hard, resting her chin on her shoulder for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling back. "I'll see you Thursday." Santana looked relieved.

"Great. We'll do some karaoke, eat some crap, unwind after your week of hell. Hey, let me give you my spare key in case I'm not home when you get to my place Thursday. I shouldn't be late, but let yourself in." She unhooked the spare and gave it to Quinn. "See you in a few days." Quinn smiled at her, and closed the door as she walked away. It took her about thirty seconds to slide down the back of the door and put her head in her hands.

Dom stuck her head out of her room. "Thought I heard something."

"Please tell me Jess isn't here," Quinn said to the floor.

"Jess went somewhere with Nate and won't be back anytime soon," she said. She realized that Quinn was upset. "And Emma is camped out in the library for the foreseeable future." She crouched down in front of Quinn as the tears began.

"Jesus, Dom," she managed before the crying became too much. Dom just sat on the floor next to her and held her until she could talk again.


	31. Chapter 31

Santana, on the other hand, was singing along the radio as she drove home. She still had this feeling eating at her that something was up with Quinn, but she was looking forward to another weekend hanging out with her so soon. She also thought about Georgia briefly. She'd seen her for maybe an hour on Friday before she'd left for New Haven, but she would be working pretty much straight through til Wednesday night. So, come Thursday, she would be able to hang out with Quinn and introduce her to Georgia. Which sounded like a great idea.

Her week continued fairly quickly. She sang twice for her assessments, Tuesday afternoon, and received a couple of texts from Quinn after she'd sat her exams. She seemed okay.

Thursday rolled around quickly enough, and after Devon sang his assessment pieces, Santana spent a little time working on her critiques. She heard her phone vibrating.

_Just me. I'm at yours. ETA?_

_Fifteen minutes. I'll meet you downstairs at the coffee place._

She re-read everything she'd written and turned them in to Alison.

"Have a good break, Santana."

"I will, thanks. You too," she said. She got out of the carpark with no hassle, and pulled her car in to her spot behind her apartment building, and hurried the few doors down the coffee place. Quinn was reading a copy of The Blind Assassin and drinking a coffee. She looked tired.

"Q," Santana said. "Sorry I kept you."

"You didn't keep me," Quinn said. "You had class."

"How were your last few exams?"

"About what I thought they would be. Dom thinks she did okay, too. But Emma is pretty certain she's flunking out," Quinn replied, putting her book down. "What about you, how was your assessment?"

"Pretty sure I nailed it," Santana responded, swiping Quinn's coffee and drinking some. "I guess I'll find out next term. Hold on a sec, I want to grab one of those."

Quinn watched Santana. Most of her Sunday was spent sobbing to Dom about how conflicted she was about Santana – she wanted to be happy, but she didn't want to make San unhappy by ruining what she had with Georgia. Dom had listened, patiently, and just confirmed that it was going to be hard, but she had to do something before things got worse. They'd ended the night with coffee, and Quinn had thanked Dom for being such a good friend. She'd refocused on her schoolwork for that week, but had promised herself that over the weekend, she'd have to sit down with Santana and talk – whether it turned into something else or ruined their friendship all together, it just had to be said.

Santana got her coffee and they went back to her place. Santana put some music on and they just relaxed. Quinn kept on going with her book, they took a pedicure break, Santana eventually brought up that she was thinking about buying a keyboard and learning how to play a little. Veronica had said she could teach her, and agreed it would be helpful in learning how to pitch more easily.

They began to rehash their glee days after a while, their favorite performances, and funny stuff that used to happen during practice. Quinn revealed that she'd heard from Rachel once or twice over the past couple of weeks, and that she and Kurt were doing well.

They managed to while away all of Thursday, with Santana cooking for both of them at the end of the day. Quinn was glad to retire to the guest room, and not into bed with Santana. She sat up for a few moments, writing in her journal.

She hadn't kept a journal since middle school. But the way she was feeling lately, it seemed like a pretty decent way to organize her thoughts, and let out her anxiety. Rachel, of all people, had suggested it. It was just a way for her to empty her mind before sleeping, mostly. So far, it had been working.

Friday morning, a miracle occurred, Santana woke up before Quinn, and had bacon frying when she emerged from the guest room.

"Morning, Q," Santana said.

"You're up early," Quinn observed.

"Shannon was texting me," Santana said. "Confirming that Friday night karaoke is on, if you're up for it."

"I am," Quinn said. "I had fun with your friends."

"Anything else you wanna do today?" Santana said. "I'm wide open, I'm on vacation time and everything."

"Rub it in a little," Quinn said. "Stupid study group. If it wasn't compulsory I'd blow it off. And in answer to your question, I don't really have to do anything, or want to. Just hanging works for me."

"Sure, let's hit up the bookstore quickly, though, I'm starting to get a little hooked on autobiographies. Suzie Quatro, man. Suzie. Quatro." Quinn smiled.

"Sure. Sounds perfect."

Karaoke Friday was well underway by the time Santana and Quinn finally showed up at The Dive that night. They were running a little behind, because Quinn had gotten in the way of a toddler with a piece of pizza. She wasn't entirely happy when she realized that Georgia was also in attendance – Santana introduced them almost immediately, then disappeared to line up a few songs with the audio guys.

"Quinn," Georgia said. "Santana talks about you all the time, it's nice to finally meet you. She thinks the world of you." She seemed sweet, and genuine, so Quinn decided to rein in the bitch that was threatening to leap out of her chest.

"It's mutual," she responded. "San is the family I wish I had." She left out the part where she was in love with her, figuring that might not be the smoothest way to start a conversation with her best friend's maybe-girlfriend.

"And you're at Yale? That's a hell of a school. What's your major?"

"English," Quinn said. "I'm really liking my poetry classes. I mean, it's pretty intense, but if it was a cake-walk, it wouldn't be Yale, you know?"

"Yeah, if everyone could do it, it wouldn't be one of the most highly sought after schools in the country," Georgia agreed. "How come you didn't go into music? Santana said you used to sing with her in glee."

"It's not the same thing," Quinn said. "I like to sing. But it's a part of San. She sings like I breathe. It's who she is. Me, I'd call it a happy sideline, or a nice way to pass the time. But it's not a part of me. San, she was born to be on a stage."

"I'm looking forward to hearing her sing," Georgia said.

"You won't have to wait long," Quinn replied. She pointed to the stage, where Santana was holding a microphone. She could hear the familiar opening strains of a song she knew Santana was going to nail.

Neither of them said a word, just watched as Santana effortlessly delivered Back to Black. Veronica dropped into the seat next to Georgia.

"She's very talented," Georgia said eventually.

"That's an understatement, mate," Veronica said. "She's pretty much had no formal training. She's insane. You have no idea." Georgia glanced across at Quinn, who must have clearly known just how good Santana was, her eyes were glued to the brunette in a way that made her the slightest bit uncomfortable.

She turned back to the front, and watched as Santana wrapped up the song. She didn't leave the stage when she was done, however, but she kept talking.

"So, my friend Quinn is here tonight, and I've been trying to convince her to get up here and sing with me. I'm pretty sure that if we get a little applause going, she might just get up." Quinn was glaring at her, but was being swayed by the applause.

"Go on," Veronica said. "Do it, get it out of the way. Then you'll be as bad as one of us, up here all the time." Quinn relented and made her way up, and gave a little wave to the people who cheered from Berklee.

"Okay," Santana said. "She's giving me a look that says she's going to murder me later, but as for right now, we're going to sing a song that we sing together all the time, whenever we go on a road trip." The song started and Quinn knew immediately what they were singing.

In the audience, Georgia recognized the song, too, and sat up to watch them together. Santana began first.

"I may not always love you, but long as there are stars above you," she sang, and motioned with her free hand to Quinn.

"You never need to doubt it, I'll make you so sure about it," Quinn sang, making a different gesture with her own hand, pointing up. Obviously it indicated that she would be taking the upper harmony, because they sang together.

"God only knows what I'd be without you…" Veronica nodded appreciatively.

"Not the voice I expected," Veronica responded. "It's nice. Very pure."

Georgia made a noise that sounded like an agreement, but she was more concerned with the way the two of them were singing to one another. Santana had taken Quinn's hand, and they were looking at each other in a way that best friends typically didn't look at each other.

"Veronica?" Georgia said. The Australian girl looked over. "Was that ever a thing?" She pointed at them.

"Q and San? Nope," Veronica said. "At least, not that either of them have admitted. But you're not the first person to think that."

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. I kind of thought that they had the leftover sexual tension thing, but never-even-happened sexual tension is worse."

"You worried?"

"A little. I mean, check out how Quinn's looking at her." They watched for a moment. It was undeniable. Quinn was smitten with Santana. Veronica sat back in her chair.

"That's something new," she said. "But you're right. Be worried." Georgia sighed and the two girls finished the song. Santana pulled Quinn into a hug and whispered something to her that Georgia couldn't quite make out. They stepped off the stage, Santana headed for the table where they were all sitting, and Quinn headed for the bathroom. Georgia waited a beat.

"Be right back," she said to no-one in particular. She followed Quinn into the ladies room, holding the door open for two inebriated women who were making their way out. She was leaning against the sinks when Quinn came out.

"Hey Georgia," Quinn said.

"You guys were great up there," she said.

"Thanks," Quinn said uncertainly. This was odd. "San has always been my favorite singing partner, and it'd been a while. I had fun." Georgia was watching her carefully.

"Are you in love with Santana?" she asked. Quinn tried to act casual, but her efforts only made it seem more obvious.

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you in love with her? Because you look at her like you are. And it's a hell of a thing to see, someone looking at the girl you're dating like that. So, are you?" Quinn met Georgia's eyes in the mirror.

"I tried not to be," she said quietly. "I did. But I can't help it. I do love her." Georgia nodded.

"I see."

"But I don't want to be the girl that comes in between her and you. She likes you."

"She told you that?"

"She said she thinks you're a lot of fun. And you're hot," Quinn said awkwardly.

"And when she talks about you, it's completely different," Georgia countered. Words like amazing, brilliant, gorgeous…"

"Say the word, Georgia, and I'll get on a train and you won't have to worry about me. I just want San to be happy." Georgia waited a moment. A girl stuck her head into the bathroom, but saw that there was an intense moment underway and backed out.

"See my problem is this," Georgia said. "I like Santana. She's cute. We have a good time. And in a perfect world, I'd like to see where that goes. But, man, the way you look at her…"

"What?"

"Everyone should be lucky enough to have someone look at them like that. Does she know?"

"San is always oblivious with these things."

"Then tell her, would you?"

"Georgia – "

"No, do it. Consider this my bowing out. I'll call her in the morning, and I'll explain. Just make sure you tell her before you leave town. Because she needs to know. Hell, I'd want to know."

"I'm sorry," Quinn said simply. "I didn't want to be that girl."

"You should never be sorry for being in love," Georgia said. "And you know, it would be easier to hate you, if I hadn't seen Santana looking that happy onstage with you five minutes ago. Promise you'll tell her?"

"I will."

"Good. Maybe tomorrow? And last thing. If you do tell her, and it turns in to a thing… make sure she stays happy."

"That's going to be my goal regardless of what happens here."

"I had a feeling it would be," Georgia said. "It was nice to meet you. Weird, but nice."

"Likewise." Georgia left, and Quinn leaned against the sink. Georgia would be easy to hate if she wasn't so nice. She felt a little bad. But she also felt a little relieved. The presence of Georgia was the last thing that made her uncomfortable. Now she had no choice.

By the time Quinn got back to the table, Georgia was pushing the door to The Dive open. Santana was watching her leave.

"She got a call from work about starting earlier tomorrow," Santana said. "She had to bail to get some sleep." Quinn shrugged.

"I had fun singing with you, San."

"Yeah, me too. And these guys loved it."

"Yeah man, that was pretty sweet," Veronica said. "You've got a nice voice, Quinn."

"I do okay," she said, blushing, "Nothing like you guys."

"You should sing with Shannon," Veronica said. "Your voices would go well together." She began rattling off a list of songs they should sing. Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn and grinned.

The next morning, Quinn awoke first and got in the shower. She still had no idea how to broach the impending discussion with Santana. But she'd promised Georgia, and it felt cheap and wrong to think about backing out.

They enjoyed a late breakfast together, and Quinn began to get nervous. She'd packed to go back to New Haven and they were about to get in the car to take Quinn to the train station.

"San, we need to talk," Quinn said.

"Sure," San said. She unlocked the car, and they got in. "What's on your mind?"

"I know I've been a bit hot and cold the past few weeks," Quinn began, "And I've never really explained it to you. And you really do deserve to know, since you've been nothing but patient and supportive with me."

"You know me, Q, I'm ready whenever you are," Santana said as she drove.

"Remember last weekend when I was talking about people seeing me one way, when I'm really another?"

"Yeah. Psych 101, didn't you say?"

"I've always been what people thought I should be. Cheerios, celibacy club, the academic, the debutante, honor roll… But none of those things were really me. Sure, I like school and whatever, but I've been playing a part for my parents, for everyone else for so long, and it's getting a little old."

"Quinn, you're not dropping out of Yale, are you?"

"No," Quinn said. "But I'm not majoring in Law, like my mom wanted. I'm majoring in English. Because it's what I want."

"That's awesome. I'm proud of you Q, and she will be, too."

"She is, I told her on Monday," Quinn said. "I've been trying to come clean about a lot of things, but there's something that I have been holding on to for a while now, and I can't be honest about it with anyone until I've been honest with you."

"Jesus, Q, this sounds serious." She paused and honked at some slow moving traffic. They were running out of time, the train station was around the corner.

"It is." She took a deep breath. "I'm not who you think I am, Santana. Or what you think I am."

"Huh?"

"I've been keeping a secret from you because I'm afraid of what might happen when it gets out," Quinn explained.

"Quinn Fabray, there is absolutely nothing you can say to me that's going to change the fact that you're the most important person in the world to me."

"You don't know that," Quinn said. "And saying that doesn't make it any easier for me to do this, because who I am in regards to you is exactly what's going to change." Santana parked the car, and her phone began to ring.

"Oh, it's Georgia," Santana said. "I thought she was working. Hang on, I'll just tell her I'll call her back." Quinn pulled her bag from the car and followed Santana to the platform. This conversation with Georgia was taking a little bit longer than Quinn had envisioned. At one point, Santana stopped pacing the platform and looked Quinn in the eyes before continuing. When she finally did hang up, Quinn only had a few minutes left.

"So that was Georgia," Santana said, "Telling me that it's not a fantastic idea for us to keep seeing each other."

"Uh huh?"

"And she said that it wasn't anything I did, or anything I said, but that I should check with you, because you'd be able to explain better than she could," Santana said. "Did you say something to her?" Santana posed the question as the bells sounded, alerting the passengers to the train's imminent arrival.

"No," Quinn said. "Not exactly."

"What was it, exactly, then?" Santana said. "Because right now I've got you doing some mad deep and meaningful right before you get on a train, and Georgia calling to say she's out of something that we just started because of something you said-"

"I didn't say anything," Quinn said. "She said something to me. And she's actually quite a lovely person, which just makes this all the more bizarre."

"Explain," Santana said. The train drew closer.

"Santana, all people ever seem to think about the two of us is that we're dating," Quinn said. "Did you ever wonder why that is? Did you ever wonder why you always call me the most important person in your life, or why I call you the most important person in mine? Because people notice us. Georgia noticed us. Or, she noticed me. Staring at you."

"What?"

"Jesus. Georgia offered to back off, because she sees the way I look at you. She heard the way you speak about me. And I told her exactly how I feel about you." The train pulled up to the platform, and Quinn picked up her bag.

"What are you saying, Quinn?" Santana said. Quinn just rolled her eyes, and put the bag back down. She took Santana's face in her hands, and kissed her long and hard. Then she picked the bag back up.

"How could you not know by now?" Quinn asked breathlessly. "I'm in love with you, Santana." Santana was dumbfounded, and Quinn took the opportunity to slip on to the train just as the doors were closing. Santana was still rooted to the spot, brain still processing what had just happened. When her heart had stopped racing, she was able to form three words, said for nobody's benefit but her own.

"What the hell?!"


	32. Chapter 32

As soon as Quinn sat down in the carriage seat, she knew she'd done the wrong thing. There was no single thing she could have done that was stupider than getting on the train. She made to stand up, but the train lurched into movement, sitting her back down. She dropped her bag and punched the armrest.

"Something wrong?" the elderly lady opposite her asked. Quinn smiled, somewhat despondently.

"I'm afraid I just left someone I love very much on that platform," she said softly. "And I regret it. As a matter of fact, I'm getting off at the next stop to go back."

"Sweetheart, this is the express," the woman said. "It won't stop for almost forty five minutes."

"I forgot," Quinn said. "I'm an idiot." She stared out the window.

"Does he know?"

"Sorry?" Quinn said.

"Does he know that you love him?"

"She knows now," Quinn said firmly. The woman raised an eyebrow, just slightly, as she regarded Quinn.

"Well, dear, I can't speak for your situation specifically, but I'm fairly certain that love tends to wait, if it has to." She reached across and patted Quinn's knee. It was a nothing gesture between strangers, but it was oddly comforting to Quinn. She smiled at the woman again, more warmly this time, and turned her attention to the racing cityscape.

By this time, Santana had managed to make it off of the train platform and back to her car. She'd managed to get in, but was just sitting in the drivers' seat, door open, keys in her hand. She had no idea what was going on, none. Just that Quinn had kissed her. Quinn. Quinn Fabray, her best friend in all the world had just kissed her and told her that she was in love with her. So she was trying to form some kind of idea about what was going on, but she could only think of a few things that made no coherent sense.

Firstly, Quinn had kissed her. And not just a little peck, either, she'd gone all in. And the girl could kiss, it was a full few minutes before the feeling of her lips had disappeared. That was one of the problem areas – if she was being honest, it was a good kiss - she'd felt a little stir in her chest right before they broke apart. And that was confusing as hell, because it was… Quinn.

Secondly, she still couldn't figure out how Georgia and Quinn had pieced this whole thing together. She picked up her cell and called Georgia, but she wasn't surprised when it rang out.

Thirdly, she was trying to figure out when exactly Quinn had supposedly fallen in love with her, and why she hadn't noticed. That was stretching her brain way more than she would like. She picked up her cell again, and dialed Veronica.

"Myeah?" Veronica mumbled. Santana didn't pick up on the sleepiness in the girls' voice.

"Where are you?"

"Santana?" Veronica said more legibly.

"Are you home?" Santana asked.

"No, I stayed at Charlotte's," she said. "What's up with you?"

"Quinn kissed me." There was a rustling sound as Veronica sat up.

"What!?"

"Quinn just kissed me and told me that she's in love with me, and then she got on a god damn train back to New Haven," she said. "I have no idea what's going on."

"What about Georgia?"

"I have this feeling like Georgia knew about Quinn, but like I said, I've got no idea. Look, I'm at the train station and I'm pretty sure if I drive I'll crash into something because I can't even think straight."

"I'll get Charlotte to drop me off, stay there," Veronica said, and hung up. Santana dropped her cell onto the passenger seat and grabbed on to the steering wheel with both hands. She sighed and shook her head, as if it would settle the thoughts into some kind of order. She reached out and picked up her cell again, and this time she brought up Quinn's number. She stared at it a minute, thumb hovering the call button.

This wasn't just a phone call, Santana was realizing. This was a game-changer. What she did next would have massive implications, and Quinn had basically put the ball in her court without telling her what game they were playing, and to what end. She dropped the phone again, and waited for Veronica.

Veronica arrived soon after, handed Santana a travel mug of coffee and got into the passenger seat. Santana sat back and closed her eyes, and pulled the door closed.

"I have no idea what just happened," she said.

"Run it past me," Veronica said. Santana rehashed the past hour to Veronica – Quinn wanting to talk, being interrupted by Georgia on the phone, Georgia telling Santana to talk to Quinn, and Quinn kissing her then immediately bailing on the train.

"Can I fill in a bit?" Veronica said. "It might help."

"You know something?"

"I know that last night Georgia was watching you and Q singing, and she wondered if you two had ever been a thing. When I told her no, she kind of felt like there was something in the way you two looked at each other. It's obvious to everyone. And she saw it, Santana."

"Saw it? What is it?"

"Dude. Do not make me have this conversation with you." Santana just looked at her helplessly. "Alright get out."

"What?"

"Get out, I'm driving," Veronica said. "Probably safer with me and my international license driving on the wrong side of the road than you and whatever your brain is doing right now." Santana exchanged seats with Veronica, who cranked the heat up as she drove. They didn't say anything more until they got back to Santana's apartment.

Once they got inside, Veronica took Santana by the shoulders and steered her toward the bedroom. She stood her in front of the wall opposite the window.

"What do you see?"

"Photos," Santana said. "I did put them there, V."

"Look again, dumbass. And pay attention."

The wall held a collage of photos that Santana had put up the first day she moved in. She looked at the photos. Her folks. Glee club. Cheerios. But mostly, her and Quinn. Her and Quinn in their Cheerios gear, her arm around Quinn's shoulder. Her and Quinn backstage after New Directions won Nationals. Her and Quinn at graduation, Quinn clutching her arm. Her and Quinn at prom, arms wrapped around each others' waists. For the first time she noticed the way it must look to everyone else. Another prom photo, one Tina had taken later that night, showed Santana's eyes fixed on Quinn's face, and they were holding hands. It certainly looked like they were a lot closer than best friends. Santana stepped back a little, and Veronica sat her on the bed. She pulled out her own cell phone.

"These are photos from the couple of times Quinn's been here to visit." She let Santana scroll through the photos. They were just the regular sort of shots someone might take on a night out with friends, but Santana wasn't paying attention to what was in the photos any more.

It was how she felt looking at them that was taking all of her concentration. She could feel Quinn's arm around her, pulling her close. It felt natural. It felt safe, and like a place she should be. She remembered the rush of something low in her stomach whenever the girl laughed, or they shared an inside joke. She remembered the tiny goosebumps on the back of her neck whenever Quinn whispered or spoke softly to her, which was a lot, because she always spoke softly. She remembered the instantaneous lightness she felt whenever she and Quinn were together and the heavy sense that settled across her when she left. And she remembered thinking, on more than one occasion, how Quinn was all the best things a person could be, how proud she was of her, how much she relied on her, how much she needed her and the fact that she didn't care what else she had in her life, as long as she had Quinn.

"Oh man," Santana said softly, resting the phone in her lap. "Seriously?"

"You get it now?" Veronica said. "Say it, Santana."

"I'm in love with Quinn."

"There it is," Veronica said. "Finally." Santana stood up suddenly, Veronica's phone bouncing off the carpet. She grabbed a duffel bag from her closet and began stuffing things into it forcefully.

"What in the blue hell are you doing?" Veronica said.

"Going to New Haven," Santana said. "I need to talk to Quinn."

"You can just call her," Veronica said. "Phone. Right there on the floor."

"No I can't," Santana said. "That's a face to face conversation. Because I need to see the look on her face when I tell her I love her, too… Come on, I'll drop you off."

"Just go," Veronica sighed. "I'll call Charlotte again, as long as I can chill here til she has time to pick me up." Santana picked her keys up and separated the building and apartment key.

"Lock up when you're done, whatever you need. I'll be fine, Quinn has the spares," she said. She picked up a few more random things and stuck them in the bag. "Ah, screw it, I'll just buy what I forgot."

"Go get her, Lopez," Veronica said. Santana hugged her briefly. "And don't crash your car or anything stupid, will you?"

Santana raced downstairs and tossed her bag in the car, and immediately set out for New Haven. She stopped once, to fill up her car and grab something sugary because she hadn't eaten. When she saw the first road sign pointing to Yale, she pulled over at the side of the road and took a deep breath. She worried, for the first time that day, if this was a bad idea. What if she and Quinn didn't work out, and ended up hating each other's guts? She hadn't even heard from Brittany since she got to Boston, and losing one friend like that wasn't the best feeling in the world.

She shook her head. Everything was different with Quinn. They'd fought plenty over the years, but were still friends now, and they were big fights. Big fights about things that mattered, like Quinn being so insecure about being loved that she'd gotten knocked up by her boyfriend's best friend. And Santana being so insecure about herself that she'd gotten a boob job.

Santana started the car back up. Clearly, they were going to have to talk, because there were a lot of questions that Santana needed answered, and she was sure Quinn had a lot on her mind. But first she just needed to find her, because she suspected that, as always, everything would work out after that.

Quinn was checking her phone compulsively, waiting for the slightest bit of signal to appear. She had to call Santana and tell her she was coming back. When a single bar popped up, she dialed Santana's phone, only Santana didn't answer.

"Santana's phone," said Veronica's voice.

"Veronica?"

"Quinn. Um, Santana isn't here," Veronica said. "She left her phone here though." Quinn's heart sank. That sounded bad.

"Where did she go?" There was an exasperated sigh on the other end.

"To come and see you, you idiot," Veronica said. "I swear to God, you two are so oblivious when it comes to one another. Didn't you just make a grand declaration of love and pash her at the traino? Where the hell else would she be going? Nebraska?"

"She's coming to New Haven? I was going to get off at the next stop and come back."

"Well, since she has no idea that she doesn't have her phone, I suggest that you stay on the train," Veronica said.

"Was she mad?"

"Not really mad. Mainly confused. But once I pointed out that she was just as in love with you, she left."

"She loves me?"

"Jesus Christ, you two are pathetic. I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer, Quinn. Just, tell her to call me when she's coming home, I've got her house keys." She hung up and Quinn smiled out the window. If Santana had already left, she'd probably make it to New Haven before she did. She called Dominique.

"Hey," Dom said. "How was Boston?"

"Eventful," Quinn said. "Look, Santana's on her way down, but she's in her car and I'm on the train."

"That seems unnecessarily complicated," Dom said.

"It is, I'll explain later. Anyway, she's probably going to get there before me, so if she shows up at the dorm, tell her to wait. She doesn't have her phone, she left it in Boston."

"Okay, Quinn. But you owe me a story."

"Oh there's a story," Quinn said. "And I'm pretty sure it even has a happy ending."

"Well it's abo-" the phone cut out, and Quinn saw that she'd managed to lose her signal. She stuck the phone in her jacket pocket. The next little while was going to be torturous.

Santana knocked on the dorm door. Dom answered it, and let her in.

"She's not here," Dom said.

"Where is she?"

"Still on the train. She tried to call you, but you left your phone at home," Dom said. "She asked you to wait."

"I didn't even think about the difference in travel times," Santana admitted, patting her pockets, shrugging when she realised her phone wasn't there. "Any idea when the train gets in?"

"I'll check the timetable," Dom said. "You know, you two seem to go about this in the most difficult way possible."

"You sound like Veronica." Dom pulled up the train timetable on her laptop.

"It gets into the station in just under an hour," Dom said.

"Can I borrow your bathroom?" Santana said. "And are you the only one here?"

"Sure," Dom said. "And the gods smiled on me, Santana, Jess has taken off with Nate for a week, and Emma's gone home."

Santana used the bathroom to freshen up, and then took a couple of minutes to try and figure out what else she'd left behind. Despite not having her phone, she had a phone charger, and she had precisely one shirt, but four pairs of jeans. And she was wearing the only pair of shoes and socks she had with her.

"Damn," Santana said, coming out of the bathroom. "Serves me right for leaving in a hurry without thinking about what I'm tossing in the bag."

"Need anything?"

"Nothing urgent," Santana said. "I can go out tomorrow and get a few things, Q said something about study group." She checked her watch.

"It's been about six minutes," Dom said, smirking. "Want to go get some coffee?"

"God yes, thank you," Santana said. Dominique closed the door behind them. "Are you even going to ask me why I'm here?"

"No," Dominique said. "I know why you're here, but you should talk to Quinn first. Because it concerns the two of you, and nobody else. Except that nurse, maybe."

"Georgia?" Santana said. "You knew about her?"

"Quinn told me," Dom confirmed. "But like I said, not really my business." They went and picked up coffee and walked back toward the dorm, but Santana stopped before they got there.

"I'm not waiting here. I'm going to the train station," she said. "Thanks for the coffee."

"I think it's a nice afternoon for a run," Dominique said pointedly. "I may not be here when you get back, and I tend to stay gone for quite a while…" Santana just smiled at her and headed back to her car. She found the train station easily enough, and made her way on to the platform. She still had about half hour before the train was due, so she began running through what she was going to say to Quinn in her mind.

She re-wrote the speech about ten different times in her head. She never was good with her own words, that was Quinn's deal. And once she heard the rumble signaling the train's arrival, all of the prepared words vanished. Her heart began to pound in her chest as it came into view and she stood up, tossed the empty coffee cup in the bin and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Quinn was already at the train doors, waiting for it to stop and let her off. She was impatiently biting at her lip, and shrugging the bag on her shoulder to a more comfortable place. It slowed and eventually came to a stop; the hydraulic hiss of the doors as they opened almost drowned out the sound of her heart racing inside her head. A few dozen people had gotten off, and Quinn looked around. A group of three college aged students moved past Quinn, and then there she was. Just standing there, hands shoved in her pockets.

The platform was emptying quickly, and the doors began to close behind her, but they stood still, watching one another. Quinn tried to speak, but Santana shook her head, and she stopped.

"So I've been rehearsing this epic speech," Santana said. "But I kind of forgot what I was planning to say the moment the train came around the bend."

"I'm sorry I got on in the first place," Quinn said. "I should have-"

Santana cut her off by kissing her in much the same way she had done to her earlier. Hands cupping her face, but she didn't pull away. Quinn dropped her bag on the concrete and slowly wrapped her arms around Santana as the kiss deepened. Santana was kissing her softly but insistently, one hand gently pushing choppy blonde hair out of their faces. Quinn's eyes were closed, but she could swear she could see her heart beating on the back of her eyelids. It was loud and fast, but it didn't hurt, because if felt – perfect.

"We have a lot of talking to do," Santana said, eventually pulling away. "Like, a lot." She rested her forehead against Quinn's, lips tingling and the vague scent of Quinn's perfume filling up what seemed like her entire brain.

"I know," Quinn said. "We have time."

Santana said. "We have to do this properly, Quinn, because it all changes. We have to-"

"I know," Quinn said again. "And we will. But not on the train station platform."

"Dom said she'd split," Santana said. "Go for a run, give us some privacy for a little while." She bent down and picked up Quinn's bag and slung it over her own shoulder.

"San, you don't have to carry my bag," Quinn said. Santana just held out her other hand expectantly. Quinn took it, interlacing their fingers. She looked at their hands for a moment, fingers curling in to one another and broke out into a wide smile. Santana tugged at her hand, and they left the platform to walk into a whole new place together.


	33. Chapter 33

_SURPRISE. Didn't mean to be absent for so long. Sorry about that. Much has been going on. But thank you to everyone who continued to read, review and recommend my fics. Y'all are amazing._

* * *

The two of them were perched facing one another on the tiny couch in the dorm. Dom had left a note saying to call her whenever it was cool to come back. Quinn had called and told her she didn't have to leave on their account, but Dom insisted she could find something to do for a while. So once Quinn had stowed her things, and kicked her shoes off, they'd sat down together, Santana entangling their fingers together, to talk.

"Are we the last people to figure this out?" Santana said. "Because I don't know about you, but V had to literally shove this in my face. I'm sorry. You know, that I didn't figure it out earlier."

"It's not like I showed my hand or anything," Quinn said. "You didn't figure it out because I kept it to myself. For only about a million reasons."

"When did you figure it out?"

"I think it's been one of those slow burn things," Quinn said. "Spending almost every day with you and then missing you when you weren't there. But Dom did help me narrow it down. It's been – complicated."

"Whereas I was staring it directly in the face and still couldn't see it."

"You know what I mean, though San?" Quinn said. "Getting into this with me is going to be hard."

"Q, I'm up for anything with you," Santana said. "And that applied before you kissed me. But tell me what's on your mind."

"Well, there's my parents for starters," Quinn replied, resting her head on the back of the couch. "I mean, my dad is long gone, but my mom isn't. And even though my mom has totally mellowed out, I don't know how many of my dad's… prejudices… she has ingrained in her."

"You don't think she'll be cool with you dating me?" Santana said. She hoped it wasn't true, since she liked Judy. "We are dating now, right?" Quinn nodded.

"I don't think it'll be about you, specifically," Quinn said. "And it might not even be about the fact that you're a girl. It'll be letting go of the whole idea of a big church wedding, picket-fenced house with four tiny blonde grandkids…"

"Giving up her dream for you," Santana said. "I get it. Though those things aren't necessarily out of the equation if you marry a girl, Quinn."

"In any case, I think it's better that it's you and not some random girl," Quinn said. "She already knows you, and she likes you."

"I don't know how, but if I can make it any easier for you to tell her, let me know."

"It was hard enough for me to deal with. One of the reasons I took so long was that I never thought I would feel this way about you. A girl."

"And that's a different thing all together," Santana said. Her thumb was lightly brushing the back of Quinn's hand, and it comforted Quinn just to feel it there.

"At first I thought it was just because you were my closest friend, and I was craving that feeling. That intimacy. But it wasn't just how _I _felt when I was with you. It's that I wanted _you_ to be happy. Even when you met Georgia, it killed me, but as long as you sounded that happy I couldn't ruin that."

"Ah, Georgia. Where does she fit in, exactly?"

"She cornered me in the bathroom on Friday. Asked me if I was in love with you. I lied and said no, but it was written all over my face. And she did possibly the stupidest and most amazing thing. She bowed out. Said that everyone deserved to have someone look at them the way I look at you. I tried to dislike that girl, but I just can't. And I tried not to be the girl that broke you up."

"She was pretty damn amazing," Santana said. "She was fun. And maybe it might have been something one day, but with you, it's already there."

"The mysterious 'it'," Quinn said.

"You know what I'm talking about," Santana said. "I mean, you've been my best friend for years, and I've always loved you. Always thought you were the most beautiful girl in a room at any given time. The jump from that to this would be almost nothing, but neither of us did it."

"And we just let it go unsaid for so long," Quinn said. "I'll admit to being scared when I realized that I loved you. Because of how things ended with Britt. I don't want us to end like that, if we end."

"With one us fleeing town in the dead of night?" Santana said wryly. "But we're different, Q. You know, sometimes I wonder if we were so hard on each other during school because we expected more from one another. I know I held you up on a pedestal more than once."

"Me too," Quinn said.

"We might have hated each other some days, but you were still my best friend. And as much as I loved Britt, you were the one I went to with all the important stuff. It's hard to be serious with Britt. She was more – physical."

"Which is another, awkward, conversation we're going to need to have. Because this is, like, brand new to me. And I know you're more experienced when it comes to these sorts of things." She blushed deeply.

"Q, look at me," Santana said, tugging at her fingers. "I'm only interested in keeping you happy, whatever that takes. So if it's you calling the shots, that's cool. Or if you want me to take the lead, I can do that too. But I promise you, the second you're not comfortable, we stop." She squeezed Quinn's hand. "I'm not some asshole who's going to push you. Let's just take it slow."

"That sounds perfect," Quinn breathed. "What time is it?"

"I dunno," Santana said. "But I'm hungry. More talking or food?"

"Food," Quinn said, and to emphasise the point, her stomach growled. "I also feel kind of bad that Dom bailed."

"She's kinda awesome," Santana said. "Should we get pizza and call her back?"

"Yeah, why not. We don't have to have every conversation tonight," Quinn said. "We've got time."

"Except for tomorrow," Santana reminded her. "You have study group."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Quinn said. "Damn. I should be done about three thirty."

"That's fine, I'm sure I can amuse myself. Plus I left behind a lot of stuff. Like socks. And shirts."

"Just borrow whatever you need from me," Quinn said. "Unless you'd rather stay here a few days instead of going back to Boston."

"You're coming to Boston, though," Santana said. "Aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Quinn said.

"Then let's leave once you're done," Santana said. "We won't have to worry about kicking Dom out all the time." Quinn reached for her purse so she could dig her cell phone out. She called Dom and told her to come back, then called the pizza place and ordered dinner for the three of them. Santana was staring at her as she hung up the phone.

"What?" Quinn said.

"Just taking this whole thing in. And wondering how someone who spent the better part of a day on the train can look like as good as you do. You're beautiful, Q." Quinn blushed. It wasn't the first time she'd heard it, not even the first time she'd heard it from Santana. But it was the first time she'd heard it said like this, Santana's voice soft but sure, her eyes never wavering.

Quinn leaned across toward Santana and kissed her. She felt Santana's arms wrap around her, and it settled in her mind that _this was happening._ This was a real and actual event in her life, she wasn't dreaming. She smiled into Santana's kiss.

They broke apart and Santana left to grab a sweater from Quinn's room. Dom returned, and entered a little cautiously as if she was unsure of what she might find.

"It's safe," Quinn said.

"Good," Dom said. "We're all good?"

"Yeah," Quinn answered. "Pizza on the way." Santana came back out and sprawled back on the couch. Quinn looped an arm around her knees.

"Now this," Dom said, "This makes me happy. Because you both look happy." She tossed her cap onto her desk.

"We are," Santana answered. "Sorry we claimed all the space though."

"I offered," Dom said. "You two needed to sort some stuff out. And that's putting it diplomatically. Have I got time to hit the shower?"

"Sure," Quinn said. Dom went into the bathroom, and the two girls were left on their own again. Quinn wriggled around a little and Santana ended up laying across her lap. Quinn's fingers tugged through her hair and scratched at her scalp, and she closed her eyes. She began to hum, without knowing, and when Dom came out they were still perched like that together. Quinn didn't move again until there was a knock on the door, and she got up to pay the pizza guy.

"So, Dom," Santana said. "What have you got planned for break?"

"Nothing," Dom replied. "A little reading, it'll help me get ahead of the curve for next term."

"You're welcome to come up to Boston, too," Santana said. "I have a spare room."

"Maybe some other time, for sure," Dom said. "You guys need couple time."

"You sure?" Quinn said. Dom nodded, and opened a pizza box.

"I'm also going to soak up the absolute quiet of a dorm room without Jess and Emma in it," she said. Quinn laughed.

"It's been that good?"

"It's been glorious," Dom confirmed. "I haven't had to step over a sleeping frat boy once since they left."

"Hey, when do you guys get your exam results and whatever?" Santana said. "Quinn said Emma was pretty sure she was flunking out."

"I think it depends on the class," Quinn said. "Most of mine should be up next Monday."

"I won't get my lab results back until first week," Dom said, "But everything else should be mid next week." They kept chatting as they made short work of the pizzas, Dom eventually complaining that she'd probably re-eaten all the calories she'd burned off on her run and then more. She retired to bed soon after, and Quinn and Santana stayed on the couch, still talking. When Santana began yawning, Quinn suggested they go to bed.

Knowing how anxious Quinn was about the physical side of their new relationship, Santana was a bit uncertain about the sleeping arrangements. She looked hesitantly at Quinn.

"What?" Quinn said.

"It's just… if it means you're not uncomfortable… I'll sleep on the couch," she said.

"San," Quinn said. "We shared a bed a million times before. This is going to be a little snuggly, but I don't care. Get in here, and get into bed with me."

"Are you sure?" Santana said.

"Of course I'm sure," Quinn said. She held the door open and Santana followed her in. "Did you actually bring pyjamas?"

"I brought maybe some shorts," Santana said. "I wasn't really paying attention to what I was shoving in this bag."

"Well, since it's cold, I'll get you some pants," Quinn said. She tossed Santana some old Cheerios sweats. "I'm going to go wash up." She left and Santana changed quickly. Quinn came back, and Santana just looked at the bed. It was a standard single bed. Neither of them were big in stature, but the two of them would virtually be wrapped around one another all night.

"Santana," Quinn said. "I don't bite. Just shut your brain off and get in." Quinn got in and Santana got in next to her, her arm automatically wrapped around Quinn's waist, and her legs pushed into the crook of Quinn's own legs.

"I think you're sweet for worrying about it," Quinn said and reached for the light. "Good night, Santana."

"Good night, Quinn," Santana breathed softly.


	34. Chapter 34

When Santana woke up the next morning, she found herself alone in a bed that smelled like Quinn. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and twisted over. There was a note on the bedside table.

_Gone for coffee, be back soon. Q._

She sat up, remembering the previous days events. It was then that she registered that it was after nine o'clock. Quinn had probably been awake for hours, and she'd let her sleep in. She staggered out of bed and into the bathroom to rouse herself into some kind of consciousness. When she came out, Quinn and Dom were coming back into the dorm room with a takeout tray of coffee and a paper bag.

"Morning sunshine," Dom said. "You look like you want to fistfight the sun."

"You should see Veronica of a morning," Santana mumbled. "Makes me look like one of those Egyptian sun-worshippers."

"Good Lord," Quinn said. "I didn't think that was possible. Coffee and Danish?"

"Coffee, first," Santana said, taking the proffered cup and taking a long drink. Quinn just shook her head and smiled.

"I have study group at eleven," she said. "You can steal anything you need from me. Once I'm done we can go back to Boston. And before I forget, Veronica said to call her when you get home, she has your house keys."

"When did you talk to her?"

"Yesterday," Quinn said. "I called your phone and she answered."

"Oh yeah," Santana said. "Doesn't matter, you've got my spare still. I forgot to grab it off you. May as well keep it now." She eyed off the bag of pastries on the table.

"Go for it," Dom said. "The more you don't eat, the more I eat."

"Awesome," Santana said. She pulled a pastry out and bit into it. "Any plans today, Dom?"

"Little bit later," Dom said evasively, blushing a little.

"What's that face?" Quinn said. "Dom… are you going on a date? And you didn't tell me!?"

"I don't know that we're doing the dating thing just yet," Dom said. "I ran into a guy from my biomed class yesterday, almost literally. We chatted for a bit, he wanted to meet up for lunch, I said okay."

"What's his name?" Quinn asked.

"Reid Reynolds," she said.

"Kinda sounds like a superhero name," Santana said reaching for a second Danish. "Clark Kent, Peter Parker, Reid Reynolds."

"Since when did you know anything about superheroes?" Quinn asked curiously. "You going nerdy on me?"

"Dammit Brandon," Santana said. "I didn't even know I knew that. He's turning me into a superhero nerd by osmosis." Dom laughed.

"I'll check if he's got any super powers if you like."

"As long as he isn't using his x-ray vision for a free show," Santana said. "Is he nice?"

"Yeah," Dom said. "Quiet, pretty smart. So, I'm afraid you'll be on your own for a while."

"No biggie," Santana said. "I'll wander around, see what's up." She finished up her coffee and went to raid Quinn's wardrobe for a shirt so she could take a shower. After she came out, Dom was gone for a run and Quinn was reading a paperback.

"Where's Dom?" Santana said.

"Went for a run."

"Does she run every god damn day?" Santana asked.

"Yep, sometimes twice a day," Quinn said. "Make you feel as lazy as it makes me feel?"

"Uh huh." She dropped onto the tiny couch and Quinn closed the book. "You don't have to stop reading, Q. I like it when you're all studious and whatever."

"I know," Quinn said. "But we're alone and I just wanted to tell you that I was really, really happy when I woke up this morning and you were there." She blushed lightly, a trait Santana had always found adorable. Santana reached a hand out to Quinn's hair, tugging lightly through the blonde strands.

"And I woke up and remembered that we were doing this, and it made me happy." Quinn ducked her head a little, and then leaned forward and kissed her. It was more tentative than any of their other kisses at first, but soon Santana was shifting toward her and Quinn's hands were sliding down her arms.

"How long til you have to get going?" Santana murmured.

"We have a little time," Quinn replied, pulling Santana toward her.

"I can work with that," Santana breathed. Quinn's head was spinning. She was kissing Santana, Santana was kissing her back and it was simultaneously the best thing in the world and slightly bizarre. The bizarre was fading fast, though, and time got away from them.

"Q?" Santana murmured into her hair as she kissed a spot below Quinn's ear. "Don't you have study group in like, fifteen minutes?"

"Fifteen minutes?!" Quinn said. "Damn, I'm on the other side of campus." She stood up, looking reluctant.

"Come on, I'll walk with you," Santana sighed. Quinn quickly tossed everything she needed into a tote bag and texted one of her classmates to say she might be a few minutes late.

The two of them walked into a perfect Sunday. It was sunny and a light breeze was blowing. Santana slipped her sunglasses on and took Quinn's hand. Quinn squeezed her fingers and they walked through campus, not saying much of anything.

"I'm up here to the right," Quinn said. "Here, take my phone, I'll call you to find out where you are a bit later."

"Okay," Santana said. "Point me in the direction of some good food?" Quinn pointed and quickly told her how to get to where the decent places to eat were. Santana leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

"Thanks, Q. Call me," she said and wandered off. She found a few places that looked busy enough to indicate that there would be good food inside and ate at a small table on a crowded sidewalk.

New Haven was different to Boston in a lot of ways, but also a little the same. Or maybe it was just the fact that she had only seen all the college parts of both towns. Boston was a little less rigid. New Haven was swimming with boys in Lacoste shirts and Ralph Lauren jeans, girls in Burberry. Boston was way more relaxed, she decided as she walked around aimlessly.

She checked her watch and wandered back in the general direction of Quinn's room. She was passing yet another old fountain when she heard some singing begin somewhere ahead. She paused, curious, and could make out an acapella group ahead. She walked over and paused. They were okay, Santana guessed, but the aggressively showy frontman didn't have the skills to back up his attitude. Santana could tell he was flat, and she wrinkled her nose a little and sat down.

"What's the matter, frowny?" he said, bounding over as someone else took the lead. People looked over. "Do we not dazzle you?"

"You guys are okay, but not dazzling," Santana said, smiling her cutting smile. "And someone needs to tell the frontman he's flat."

"Oh, really?" he said challengingly. "And I suppose you're an expert?"

"Maybe not an expert, but I got better chops than you, Abercrombie," she smiled. He reminded her a little of Sam in looks, but Puck in bravado.

"You know, you could have always joined the group, elevated our standards," he said. He didn't seem off put by her candor.

"I don't go here," Santana said. "Just visiting my girlfriend."

"Well, where do you come from?"

"Boston," Santana said, knowing full well what would happen. The guy, and several onlookers, booed.

"Boston?!" he exclaimed. "Well now it's a matter of school pride. I challenge you to a sing off." Santana rolled her eyes, and people began to chant for a sing off.

"You really want to throw down on this?" she said. He winked, and pulled her to her feet.

"Yeah," he said. "I hope you're ready. Titanium okay?" Santana nodded. She and Veronica sang that song in the car. A lot. She was a fan of Sia, and Veronica was almost obsessed.

"Just remember, you asked for this," she said. He motioned to the group.

"I'll start so you can get familiar with the arrangement," he said. He began to sing. Santana could tell they enjoyed the song. She waited til the appropriate moment and took over the singing. More people began turning up, and the other singers were looking like they were impressed. The guy raised an eyebrow, and let Santana finish out the song to the applause of onlookers.

"And that," she said, "Is how we do it in Boston." A few of the backup singers came over to say hello.

"Gotta say, Harvard, you can more than hold your own," the guy said.

"Who the hell said anything about Harvard?" Santana said. "Berklee College."

"Of course," he said. "Berklee College of Music. I'm Grant, by the way."

"Santana," she replied. "And that was fun."

"For us too," said a red-headed girl. "Shame you're just visiting, we could use someone like you." The red-head's name was Candace, and she and Grant invited Santana to go with the group to get some coffee. Santana never was one to turn coffee down, so she went with them.

She spent the early afternoon telling them stories of what it was like at Berklee, and what it was like when all your classmates were as focused on performing as you were. Quinn's cell phone vibrated in her pocket before long, and she excused herself to answer it.

"Hey," Santana said.

"Hey San. I'm all done. Are you back at the room?" Quinn's voice came.

"Uh, no. I got into a sing-off with a guy from an acapella group and now I'm having coffee with them all at a place called Haven Cravin'."

"Of course you did," Quinn said, and Santana could tell she was smiling. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She went back inside and sat down.

"Sorry," she said. "Quinn's all done with study group so she's swinging by. We're headed to Boston this afternoon."

"Quinn's your girlfriend?" Grant said. "What's her major?"

"English Lit," Santana said. "Freshman."

"I think I have a class with her," a skinny Asian guy said. "Pretty blonde?"

"Well, yeah, but you don't seem to have a shortage of those around here," Santana said. "She'll be here in a minute." As if on cue, Quinn came in and looked around for Santana.

"That's her," the guy said. Quinn found the group and pecked Santana on the cheek. She smiled at the Asian guy she shared a class with, and was introduced to the rest of them by Santana.

"I hope she didn't make a nuisance of herself," she teased.

"She's a handful," Grant said. "But it was fun. Whenever you're down here, Santana, you should look us up."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said. "It was fun. Now, sorry to love you and leave you, but we got a couple hours on the road ahead of us." They politely farewelled the group and left the coffee shop, Quinn sliding a hand into Santana's as they hit the footpath. Santana tugged her in closer to her side and wrapped her arm around her as they walked back to her dorm.


	35. Chapter 35

Quinn almost felt bad leaving before she could grill Dom about her possible maybe-date with Reid Reynolds, but she did want to get back to Boston as soon as possible. She left a note on Dom's desk with a promise to call and pester her for details later, and packed a suitcase, figuring she wouldn't need to be back at Yale until classes went back.

Santana busied time watching her pack and singing along to Quinn's iPod. Quinn had turned down her offer to help with the packing, and the few things Santana had brought with her were unceremoniously shoved back into her duffel. The iPod changed to Eva Cassidy – Quinn had always loved Eva Cassidy, even way back before they ever joined Glee club. As _What a Wonderful World_ played, Santana got up from her spot on the floor and pulled Quinn toward her.

"What?" Quinn asked. Santana took the shirt she was folding from her hands and tossed it on to the bed. She guided Quinn's arms around her neck, and wrapped her own around Quinn's waist.

"You just want to dance with me?" Quinn said.

"Yep," Santana said. "So be quiet already and enjoy the moment, would you?" Quinn curled herself against Santana's body, relaxing into the other girl as they slowly shuffled and rotated. She dipped her head slightly and pressed her lips to the exposed skin of Santana's neck. She felt Santana sigh, and although she would have dearly loved to continue and see where the kissing might end up, she was enjoying the closeness of their dance more. She could feel Santana's heartbeat through her own chest, every slight tense of the muscles in her arms as she guided them. Every flutter of her fingers, spread of her hand against Quinn's back.

The song finished eventually, the mood broken by Taylor Swift, and Santana pulled back a little. "Just wanted to hold you close for a moment, Q. Coz I can."

"Anytime," Quinn replied, kissing the tip of her nose. "Though I didn't realize you were all romantic and whatever."

"Oh, I got game," Santana said with false swagger. "Prepare to be swept off your feet, little lady."

"However will my heart manage to contain itself?" Quinn said in a light Southern accent. She turned back to the bed and tossed a few other things in. "I'm ready. Coffee for the road?"

"Hell yeah," Santana said. They dumped their bags in Santana's car and headed to the nearby coffee place. There were a few people in the queue, but Santana was content to hum along to the radio as Quinn held her hand.

"Quinn?" a voice interrupted. The two girls were snapped out of their moment, and Quinn turned around.

"Oh hi, Carter," she said. "San, Carter is TA for my poetry class. Carter, Santana Lopez, my girlfriend."

"Nice to meet you," Carter said, shaking her hand. "Plans for break?"

"Just grabbing a cup of coffee before we head to Boston," Quinn said. The line shuffled forward. "San's at Berklee College."

"That seems cool," the young man said. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Santana said.

"Well, enjoy your break," Carter said. "And give some thought to what I talked to you about before exams, Quinn. I'm serious."

"I'll think about it," Quinn said. They stepped up to the counter and ordered their coffee. They smiled in farewell to Carter, and headed toward Santana's car.

"So," Santana said. "What are you supposedly considering over break?" They got into the car.

"Um, he's one of the advisors for the lit magazine and he wants me to submit some writing, poetry, I guess," Quinn said. "I don't know, though. I always kind of kept that stuff to myself."

"So you still write, then?" Santana said. "Maybe one day I can read some of it? If that's cool with you."

"You're about the only person I'd ever let read it," Quinn said. "I don't think I like the idea of something that personal being accessible to every person within a twenty mile radius of campus, you know?"

"That's your choice, Q. And I'll back your choice, every time," Santana said. They made the drive fairly leisurely, and it was almost time for dinner by the time they unlocked Santana's door with the spare key Quinn was carrying.

"Let's order in and not tell anyone we're back just yet," Santana said, putting Quinn's suitcase in her bedroom. "Wait, is it too presumptuous to assume you're going to be sharing my bed the whole time you're here?"

"I'm definitely sharing your bed," Quinn said. "If you think I waited all this time for us to get together to sleep next door, you're crazy." She gently pushed Santana up against the doorframe and pressed their lips together. She stepped in so her hips her were flush against Santana's and felt the brunette's hands gently rest on her hips, and she deepened the kiss.

"Damn," Santana muttered against Quinn's lips. "Sharing a bed it is then." She brushed her lips along Quinn's jawline.

"Goddamn," Quinn said, swallowing hard. She stuck her hands into Santana's hair and pulled her mouth back toward her own. Kissing Santana was a whole new ballgame for her. She had imagined making out with a girl more than once over the years, and she was glad to find that the reality far exceeded the expectation.

Santana was soft and somehow still strong. She was warm and she used her hands properly. And her tongue. And she smelled better. Which was a stupid thing to notice, but she noticed it nonetheless. And perhaps Quinn's favorite part was that Santana was vocal. Not loud, but she made little noises. And right now she was whispering against her neck in Spanish as she kissed her, and Quinn didn't think she'd ever heard anything so sexy in her life.

Feeling so much so quickly was also a new experience for Quinn. It'd taken her a long time to warm up to Finn, and she didn't know anything of importance about Puck when they'd hooked up. With Sam she'd kept a wary distance, but she couldn't do that with Santana. She was already all in. They already knew each other's most intimate details. She was already invested, before they were even a thing.

Santana's lips were attacking her in an unholy fashion, skirting across her collarbone. She clutched onto the brunettes hair harder with one hand, the other arm looping around her waist. Santana pulled away for a moment, leaning her forehead against Quinn's. "We have to stop," she said. "Q, if I don't stop now, I don't think I'll be able to hold it back. I don't want to rush you." Quinn's fingers curled around Santana's shoulders and she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "And thank you. Because I would more than likely get carried away. And you're right - as much as I would really, really love to keep going, I think we should wait." She kissed her softly and stepped back a little bit.

"You're all kinds of amazing," she said to Santana. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I love you, too, Q," Santana said. "I always did." Quinn tugged her back toward the couch by her hands.

"Alright. What's for dinner?" she said. "Because what you said before about ordering in and not telling anyone we're here, that's a really great idea."

"I'm sure Veronica will be calling me within the next twenty four to forty eight hours. So we have to make the most of it," Santana said. "And I will eat whatever you feel like." She got up and pulled a bunch of takeout menus from a drawer in the kitchen.

"I thought you cooked at home," Quinn laughed.

"I do," Santana said. "But V, Brandon and Shannon and I made it a mission to narrow down every decent delivery place within a reasonable radius. These are the ones that made the cut."

"This Greek place looks pretty good," Quinn said. "Order me something good. I wanna take a shower if that's okay."

"Sure," Santana said. She ordered the food and then wandered into her room. She found her phone and a note scrawled on a post it in Veronica's disgraceful handwriting.

_I expect you to fill me in the second you get home. V._

She ignored it but pulled her phone charger out of the bag she'd taken to Quinn's and plugged her phone in. When it powered up she saw that there were a number of missed calls and messages. She decided she'd ignore them all as well and turned the phone off.

While she waited for Quinn, she looked again at the wall of photographs opposite her bed. She marveled at how, in retrospect, it was completely obvious that she and Quinn had been more than friends for a while. She was still looking at them when Quinn came in, wearing a pair of sweats and a long sleeve tee.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Veronica made me stare at this photos," Santana said. "She drove me all the way here, and made me stare at them. Showed me more on her phone It's how I knew I loved you. Specifically this one here." She pointed the photo Tina had taken of them at prom.

"That's a great picture."

"It is," Santana agreed. "It was probably one of the happiest nights of my life. It was easy. And fun. And you know what? We're good together."

"Yeah we are," Quinn said. There was a knock on the door and Santana disappeared to pay the delivery guy.

They curled up on the couch with their takeout and Santana put on the episodes she DVR'd over the past couple of weeks. They spent their evening sprawled there together, hands and fingers in a tangle, sharing soft kisses and simple conversation.

When they got up and made their way to the bedroom, Santana only mentioned that she planned on ignoring all alarms and non-essential phone calls for the entire morning. Quinn was all for the plan. They were both tired and collapsed into Santana's bed quietly. Quinn wrapped herself around Santana's body, pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Night, San."

"Night, Q," she mumbled. "Love you."


End file.
